Book II Chapter IV Potlatch, FaGuan & a Goodbye
by wanderingchat
Summary: Continuing my alt universe of S2. Now out of jail, Tig continues to deal with killing Donna while Cat prepares for the rally. An old face returns to the Sons. An imprisoned club member's wife is killed and Charming prepares to say a final farewell.


DISCLAIMER

The following is a work of fiction.

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are my own creation. Any similarities to real persons are just a coincidence.

Much thanks and love go to:

My DH (who is thankfully very much alive!), for taking the time to offer insights. Also for having the love in his heart to allow me _all _my little obsessions and not feeling threatened by them. We've had 15 great years together; here's to many more!

My best friend (who does live in FL) for kicking my ass when needed and for love throughout these many years. My unofficial 'Godchild', her daughter, for her love as well.

The Indy Tarts and Tartans fan group, for giving encouragement in this venture, even though there was little GB involvement. Tignation, Samcro forums, and Facebook friends who also took an interest and added their encouragement. You know who you are.

Kim Sisk (Sisko44 on , check out her SOA/Tig Story called 'Shapphires and Whiskey'. It rocks!) for the wonderful cover art. I love it!

**Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager. **

**Charming Pawse **

**Book Two**

**Chapter 4**

**Potlatch, Fa Guan **

**and Preparing a Final Farewell**

The morning following the Sons release was picture perfect weatherwise. There was no hint of storms in the forecast, but there _was_ a storm brewing that none of the men and women of SAMCRO anticipated.

In two homes in Charming, the SAMCRO men and their women were discussing the Sons' brief imprisonment and the fight that took place between Clay and Jax. In a third, the couple had yet to face the day, much less speak of the events that had led to the club's arrest in the first place.

Cat awoke imprisoned in bed by the cats on one side and on her feet and Alex against her other side, his arm wrapped around her waist. Not wanting to disturb any of the sleepers, she gently disentangled herself from the cats and slid out from under Alex's hand. She wanted him to get as much sleep as possible. The club's stay at the SJCCF had been stressful. The more sleep Alex got, the better he'd feel.

She started the coffeepot and began fixing breakfast while contemplating the conversation they needed to have. Despite her stealthy departure from the bedroom, the cats ran after her, loudly demanding their breakfast.

"What? You can't stay with your Daddy for a few more minutes and keep him company?"

They meowed plaintively, a definite "Feed me!" that sounded remarkedly similar to the monster plant in '_Little Shop of Horrors_'. Three furry bodies wound around her legs as she mixed kibble and canned food into their bowls.

Three furry backs turned on her when she placed the bowls on the floor. They gobbled and purred over their breakfast. She grinned indulgently at them. "I'm surprised at you, Misty! I expected the boys to ignore me once they got what they wanted. That's boys for ya, but for you to descend to their level? Tsk!"

"They're ruled by their stomachs, like all us animals," Alex remarked, stretching and yawning as he entered the kitchen.

"That must explain why _you're_ up, then," she replied, handing a mug of coffee to him. "I was hopin' you'd sleep awhile yet, love."

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a good morning kiss. "Then you shouldn't have left me all alone. I sleep better when you're there. Got club business to attend to anyway."

She flipped the omlettes she was making, a recipe from Mama McLaughlin that included a filling of rice, mixed veggies, cheese, and ground sausage with assorted seasonings. "That may be, love. A couple of extra hours rest wouldn't hurt, especially after the day y'all had yesterday!"

He sipped the steaming coffee. It was just the way he liked it, hot and black. "I'm not against the idea, especially if you're part of the deal."

She slid the loaded plate in front of him. "I'm tempted, but my day's full. Gotta get Juice moved to St. Thomas. And we've got big doin's comin' up at the coffeehouse."

"What are you talking about?" His voice was sharp, wondering if Zobelle had tried something against her while the club was in jail. 'She's not talked about any kind of big event coming up!'

The landline rang, interrupting the conversation. She glared at the caller id. "Wonder what Gemma wants this early?"

"Only one way to find out," he replied, not very pleased about the interruption. He knew Gemma wouldn't appreciate getting voice mail and she'd be likely to pounce on him at the garage if she had to leave a message for either of them.

Cat used the middle finger of her right hand to push her glasses up her nose. "What's up, Gemma?" She listened for a moment, ignoring Alex's grin at her use of digital communications. "Sure, I can bring dessert. See you tonight about 8."

"Gemma's having a potluck tonight," he observed. "She volunteered us to bring dessert."

"Very good use of your powers of deductive reasoning."

"Smartass. Don't put yourself out to make anything. You can always buy something. Gemma won't mind."

"_I_ mind." She checked the pantry and found a couple of no bake cheesecake mixes. "Perfect! I can fix these, and they won't be a hassle to transport," she held up the two boxes. "Won't be completely from scratch, but if no one asks, they don't have to know, right?"

He raised his coffee cup in agreement, drained the contents, and poured a refill. "Sounds workable to me. What's this shit about 'big doin's' at the coffeehouse? Did Zobelle pull something while we were 'away'?"

Normally, they refrained from talking 'shop' during meals, either his or hers. She could tell Alex was concerned and wasn't going to let up until he got an answer.

"It's related to Zobelle, but he didn't pull anything, except to get y'all jailed," she said reassuringly. "Our next karaoke night is goin' to be dedicated to makin' Charming a lot less so for him and his kind." She outlined the format of the evening and how it would focus on music that affirmed patriotism, social consciousness, acceptance of differences, and peace.

"Sounds a lot like Woodstock," he replied. He wasn't sure it was a good idea, only because it would put her squarely in Zobelle's sights. 'As if she hasn't been since their meeting. She'll just ignore _that_ objection, so guess I'll hear her out before I raise any others.'

"Not entirely. Neither one of us is old enough to _remember_ Woodstock. Tell ya this much, based on history, this'll be much more hygenic. Plus, no hemp brownies!" He made an 'oh darn!' gesture that made her smile. "The staff is really excited about the idea, they've been talkin' it up to the customers and they seem interested. I'm workin' on an openin' that will set the mood and make our friendly white hate group _very _uncomfortable."

"What kind of opening?" he asked.

"I'm just going to take some appropriate music to historical photos that show how groups like Zobelle's don't work. Then, I plan to let the townspeople hear Zobelle's own words from his meetin' with me. If that doesn't wake them up, nothin' will!"

He spewed coffee all over the table. "You _taped_ that?"

"Audio _and _video," she smirked, wiping his spill with a wad of napkins. "I put in a security device after that confrontation with Stahl. You might not always be able to pick up the two-way to overhear a sticky situation. It made sense to install a strategic recording device for situations like that. Now I can use Zobelle's own words against him."

He relaxed while an admiring grin spread across his face. "That's truly evil! It's one of the things I love about you." He drained the remainder of his coffee and stood up, leaving his dishes on the table as he slid into his cut. "Wish I had more time to discuss this, baby. It sounds good, but keep me in the loop." He walked over to her side of the table, grabbed her by the hands and raised her to her feet for a hug and kiss.

"You know I will," she replied, slapping his butt. "See you when I see you." He hugged her again and departed.

She sighed in frustration. She'd not intended to let the conversation get sidetracked, but he had a knack for it. She still intended to talk about the previous night, come hell or high water.

* * *

Cat was running late to the dinner that evening. It had taken longer than she'd anticipated to get Juice moved due to all the bureaucratic red tape involved. She'd also gotten a surprise when she stopped in to see Chibs by the presence of his estranged wife, Fiona Hughes.

Alex had told her that Chibs had a wife and daughter in Ireland, so she'd not expected to see any of Chibs' family at the hospital. She'd stepped into Chibs' room with a cup of tea and a scone, but he was sound alseep while a dark-haired woman sat in the chair across from the bed.

"Hey," Cat said amiably but softly so she wouldn't disturb Chibs. "I'm a friend of Chibs', Cat Marshall," she extended her hand to the woman, who stared icily at it. The woman's hands remained in her lap.

Cat put her hand down and returned the woman's stare. "Listen, chick. Dunno who ya are, but unless you're related to Chibs in some way, you'd best not be sittin' here."

"And ye aire?" the woman replied haughtily.

"I told you my name. I'm also the person who's payin' for Chibs' medical care. If you don't want me callin' security on your ass, either tell me your name, or get the Hell out of here! I _can _get nasty if I have to!" Cat replied in an angry whisper.

The woman's eyes moved up and down, taking in her adversary's glasses and short stature. Despite her height advantage, Fiona Hughes could see from the other woman's bearing and fierce expression that Cat could back up her threat.

"Claws in, Miss Kitty. I'm Fiona Hughes. Chibs' wife."

"The name is Cat, Ms. Hughes, not Kitty. I run a coffeehouse, not a saloon in Dodge City. Dunno why yer bein' so territorial, I'm already spoken for."

The woman smiled, but not very warmly. "I know. Yer Tig's old laidy. I've heard lots aboot ye."

"Afraid I can't say the same in return, Ms. Hughes, or is it Mrs. Telford?"

"Ms. Hughes is fine, Ms. Marshall. I apologize for the attitude, but Chibs has an eye for the laidies."

Cat smile was several degrees warmer than Fiona's. "He does, at that. He's a good friend. Just wanted to look in on him, and make sure everything's OK. Since he's asleep, I'll take my leave. C'mon by the coffeehouse, I'll treat ya to a cuppa."

Fiona nodded at her. "I may do that, Miss Cat. I'll tell Chibs ye came by."

Cat left the room, wondering who would've called Fiona. Chibs hadn't given her that information for his file. 'I suppose it could've been the Ireland charter. Alex might know. I'm not gonna deny her the visit as long as it doesn't set Chibs recovery back."

She'd had several things to attend to at the coffeehouse for both the rally and the business, plus she had to take time to make the dessert for the potluck. Somehow, time had gotten away from her. A cake pan wouldn't travel well on the motorcycle so she had to drive the Cruiser and that meant parking further down the street from the Morrows house.

She was walking to the house when she nearly ran down Deputy Chief Hale, who had just left.

"You must be really hard up for somethin' to do if you're bustin' potluck dinners," she stated snarkily. Hale was still on her 'shit' list for his part in the guys' arrest.

"You're about to walk into a shit storm," Hale replied, ignoring her verbal pot shot. "The guys were fighting with each other when I walked in."

She listened to the angry masculine shouts coming from the house. "Sounds like they're still at it," she remarked.

"I just told them LuAnn Delaney's body was recovered off County Road 18 earlier today. She was beaten to death."

"Luann? Dead?" Cat was shocked. "She and Gemma are like sisters! How'd she take it?"

A feminine shriek and the sound of breaking china met her query. She shoved the cake pan into Hale's hands and ran into the house.

"I think you just got your answer," he replied. He considered following her with the pan but thought better of it. If her car was still unlocked, he'd leave it in there. If not, the department would certainly appreciate the treat.

Cat paused inside the back door to take in the tableau before her: the men had been fighting amongst themselves, though they were standing around in shock and Bobby Elvis looked sick to his stomach; Netta was standing at the head of the table with a look of stunned horror on her face; Gemma was sitting at the table in the middle, broken china and slices of meat on the floor and table surrounding her, tears streaming down her face.

The most compelling sight to Cat was the Winston kid's faces. Their eyes were wide with fright. They were seated near one end of the table, next to another frightened child and a blond girl standing next to the kids. Cat didn't recognize the girl. It was the sight of those scared faces that spurred her into action, not caring whether she ruffled anyone's feathers by doing so.

Cat nudged the nanny's arm and hissed "Get those kids out of here, Netta!" When the nanny didn't budge, Cat pushed her towards the kids and stated more firmly, "_Move_, dammit!"

The temporary paralysis that had come over Netta broke and she gathered the three children about her, leading them from the dining room. Her voice was soothing and comforting as she spoke to them.

Satisfied that the kids were in good hands, Cat grabbed a waste basket and knelt next to Gemma. She laid a hand on her friend's knee. "I'm so sorry, Gemma," she whispered, then began picking up the larger pieces of broken china, placing them and the slices of meat in the waste basket.

As she worked, she glanced at the other adults. "Are all y'all gonna stand around gawkin', or are y'all gonna be useful and help clean up?" When no one stirred, she added fiercely "Let's move, people!"

Her challenge snapped Tara and and the blonde out of their trances. They began clearing the table. Alex shook his head, then knelt next to her, helping her clean up the floor.

"Be careful, baby. Don't cut yourself," he whispered.

'Too late,' she thought. A sliver of broken china had already gotten imbedded in the palm of her hand. It hurt like Hell, but she had other things on her mind. There were still too many people standing around. Gemma was in tears and gasping for breath.

"Clay!" Cat called out. "Could you _please_ take Gemma out of here? Make sure she didn't get cut by the broken china?"

Concern for his wife cut through the fog in Clay's head. He gently took Gemma's hands to help her to her feet and led her out of the dining room.

Still in take charge mode, Cat grabbed a dishcloth from the sink and began cleaning the floor and table of spilled meat juices. As she worked, her eyes met Opie's blank ones. "Don't you think you should check on your kids? They need their Dad more than they need a nanny!"

"Don't tell me what to do about my kids!" Opie snarled, glaring angrily at Cat. 'Tig needs to show that woman her place!'

Before Tig could jump to his lady's defense, the blonde woman intervened. "She's right, Ope. Your kids heard and saw _everything_. They need you right now."

Opie left the room, casting another angry glare at Cat. He didn't say what was on his mind, but she had a feeling that her man was going to hear plenty on the subject later.

She glared at Bobby, Prospect, and Happy, who were still standing and staring aimlessly. "If the rest of y'all aren't gonna help clean up, ya might as well head out. There ain't gonna be a dinner tonight."

She continued cleaning the table and floor of the meat and china mess while the other women covered dishes and put them in the refrigerator. Bobby and Happy took her advice and left. Jax and Prospect stayed to help. No one spoke as they worked, everyone was too aware of Gemma's grief. Cat's hand smarted from the sliver. The meat juices and soapy water had gotten into it and the sting made her mood darker.

Clay returned to the dining room, spotted Cat and walked over to her. "Gemma's not physically hurt, but she's upset. I guess we all are," he looked around the room, his brow furling in anger when his gaze rested on Jax.

Opie came through the dining room, holding his children by the hand as the third followed. "Lyla, take the kids home. I'll follow you," he addressed the blond directly whle ignoring everyone else. He and his children departed with Lyla following after them with the other child.

"Yeah, yer welcome," Cat huffed at the rider's back. She was tense, wondering if Clay was going to unload on her for taking charge in his house. Much to her surprise, he slipped an avuncular arm around her shoulder. "Thanks, Cat. I guess Hale told you?"

She nodded. "I bumped into him outside. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You have nothing to apologize for. _Some_ people around here should be more sorry than others," he replied, glaring at his step-son.

Alex had moved into a defensive position behind Cat, just in case Opie went off on her. He knew Clay wasn't mad at her. With the remains of the dinner put away and the room cleaned up, there was no reason for anyone to hang around. "C'mon, babe. You too, Prospect. There's nothing else we can do here." He wanted to get them out of the house before Jax and Clay had another meltdown.

"See you guys in the morning," Clay replied, still glaring daggers at Jax. Tara had Jax by the hand and was leading him to the door as well. Apparently she had the same thought as Tig of avoiding a confrontation between the two.

Alex took Cat's arm and they walked out of the house to her car. Prospect said a hasty good night and ran to his bike. When they reached the Cruiser, Alex leaned against the back door while she unlocked the driver's door. She suddenly felt very tired. 'I'm too old for this shit.'

Alex grapsed the back of her neck with his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Wait for me to pull up behind you. I'll feel better if I follow you."

"Ok. We _will_ talk about this – everything – when we get home, right?"

"I guess we have to," he replied. He waited as she climbed into the driver's seat, thought about reminding her of the seat belt, but decided not to and walked back to his bike. A few seconds later, the Dyna pulled up behind her.

By the time they returned to the house, her hand was bleeding again, and she wasn't able to hide it from Alex. He took one look at the pool of blood on her shirtsleeve and pulled her into the bathroom.

"Damn, baby! Why didn't you say something earlier?" he murmured as he cleaned the wound with perioxide. It was long, but didn't look deep enough for stitches. He saw the sliver of china embedded in her palm and whistled soundlessly.

"Too much goin' on at the time," she replied, gritting her teeth against the pressure he was using the remove the sliver. "TLC obviously isn't part of your vocabulary, hon."

He let up on the pressure he was using to extract the sliver. "Sorry, baby. I'm not used to being a nurse." He dug the sliver out and cleaned it with more peroxide before applying a gauze pad to it and taping it down. "How's that?"

"Better. I'll go fix dinner."

She embraced him briefly before heading to the kitchen, stopping in the bedroom long enough to change shirts. Alex made his usual round of the house, making sure everything was secure.

Cat carried her stained shirt to the laundry and put some pre soak on the stain. It'd keep until she had a load of wash to run. She still felt tired and sad, but was determined to speak with her husband as she'd wanted to that morning, but not until they'd had something to eat.

After clearing up, she handed a fresh beer to him and curled up in the recliner with a cup of blueberry tea. "Just what was going on before I came in, love? It sounded like World War III. _Please_ don't just wave it off as 'club business' that I don't need to know about. That's not gonna wash tonight!"

Alex smiled grimly. "You just blew that line of defense to Hell!" He took a pull from the beer. "This whole day was a total FUBAR from the minute I left. It seemed like the club was at odds all day."

"Was that fall out from Juice getting shanked?"

"I dunno. Maybe. Did he get settled OK?"

"He's safe and sound at St. Thomas. He's in a separate room from Chibs. Things went fine once I got through all the damn red tape!"

"At least something went right today!" He took another pull from the beer. 'This full disclosure shit is too new for me. How much can I tell? How much _should_ I tell her?'

Cat knew he was struggling with confiding in her. He was used to keeping her and the club separate. Now he was having to make a 360 degree change. "I know you can't go into complete detail, but you need to talk to _someone. _Tell me whatever you can, starting from when you left this morning." When he remained silent, she added. "I'm OK with what goes on, love. If the last couple of days don't prove that, I don't know what will. Besides, if you can't confide in _me_, who else are you gonna talk to?"

'She's right. I _don't_ have anyone else when the club's at odds like this.' He took another reassuring pull from the beer. "You saw Prospect tonight. We were discussing his new nut and he showed it off – "

"TMI!" she squealed, holding up the palm of her hand. "The only nuts I'm interested in are the pair between your legs, but right now I'm more interested in knowin' what went on today. What happened after the show and tell?"

"We – Happy, Bobby, Prospect, Opie and I – were talking about the situation between Clay and Jax. They've not been getting along for months."

"I noticed," she affirmed. "It seems like they've been at odds since Donna was killed."

"It's been going on longer than that. Jax has been dissatisfied, but he won't say what's wrong so we can fix it. Hell, he and Clay got into a brawl at the jail. Happy and I were going to break it up, but Bobby wouldn't let us. He said they needed the fight. I don't think it made much difference."

"It certainly looks that way," she replied. "What did y'all decide on, as I'm sure fightin' wasn't it."

"Bobby delegated me to talk to Clay. Opie volunteered to talk to Jax. We split up then, Jax reported the Chinese wanted to talk to Clay. Jax went to Caracara because LuAnn had called." He took another swallow. "Saw an old face today. Remember Chucky?"

"Isn't he the guy who ripped off a bunch of money from the Chinese with one hand permanently attached to his dick?"

He nodded. "Lin figured out how to keep his hand and dick separate but still work a calculator. Lin didn't need him anymore and offered him back to us. Clay was just going to let Chukcy take his chances with the Chinese. I stepped in, suggested he take over the bookkeeping at the studio to free Bobby. Clay wasn't happy with that suggestion."

"I don't suppose you happened to speak out in front of other club members after Clay had turned Chucky down?" Cat inquired sweetly.

Tig pointed his beer bottle at her, giving her a mock scowl. "Yeah, smartass. I did. Maybe that's why Clay questioned my ability to be Sergeant at Arms."

"He _what_?"

"The van was still gone when we got back, Opie and Chucky were in it when we left Lin's. With the others gone, I thought that was a good time to talk about the rift. Clay went ballistic."

Cat shook her head. 'For Clay to question Alex's ability to do his job? That's too close for comfort!' She recalled how she'd given Opie a hard time about the lack of recon he and Alex had performed on the MCC prior to their arrest.

"Things just kept going downhill. Turned out Bobby, Jax, and Opie went on a rampage against Georgie Caruso. The asshole had broken into Caracara and stolen LuAnn's laptop, wrote the word 'dead bitch' on Lyla's dressing room door and killed the guard dog. For some reason, they took off to Laroy's bar, and found it's been taken over by Mayans. Another bit of business came up, we needed them but none of 'em would answer the phone. The business went haywire and–" His shoulders slumped and he couldn't look at her as he choked out, "Cat, I froze and left Clay in danger. Prospect had to cover for me."

She could see two things, that the admission upset him and he was out of beer. She rose from the recliner, retrieved a fresh bottle, and brought it to him. Instead of returning to the recliner, she curled up on the couch next to him, laying a comforting hand on his arm. He covered her hand with his for a moment before he opened the beer and took a long, steadying pull.

"You froze during a gun battle I take it?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. 'She's sharp, catches on quick. Doesn't have to have things spelled out.'

"Sounds like y'all were three men short, caught by surprise with bullets were flyin' everywhere. I suppose Clay was right in the thick of things instead of takin' cover?"

"You talk like you were there."

"Just taking an educated guess," she replied softly. 'No reason to tell him he talks in his sleep!' She stroked his hair and added, "The shit hit the fan when all y'all caught up with each other this evenin'. Then along comes Hale with the bad news about LuAnn, and it was like touching flame to a vat of gasoline."

"Had it not been for you coming in and taking charge, we might still be standing around. You were probably the only rational person in the room," Alex reached over to draw her head to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about being so abrupt and dictatorial about it," she said. "I have a feelin' you're gonna get an earful from Opie about me. Not just about the kids. I went verbally Wolverine on him when he told me y'all got arrested."

"How so?" He tried not to grin at the way she described giving Opie Hell, but he couldn't help it. She could come up with some good ones. The image of metal claws shooting out of her hands like the Marvel comics character amused him. 'She certainly has the temperament for it!'

She shifted uncomfortably. "I'd really rather not rub more salt in your wounds, love."

He nudged her with his arm. "C'mon, out with it! If you thought it, and said it to Opie, you might as well say it to me."

She sighed in defeat. "If you insist. Just remember, I _did_ try to spare your feelin's. I questioned why all y'all didn't do a better job of checkin' things out before goin' in like revenuers after moonshine."

"You mean why _I_ didn't do a better job," Alex replied quietly. "Opie and I scouted the outside, saw two Aryans standing guard. I assumed the intel was accurate. Being ex-Marine, I should've known better."

"Opie said y'all found an entry on a computer from that Weston fella's house, put two and two together and went on the warpath."

"Yeah. When we caught up with the rest of the club, Jax warned us that Hale had called in the county boys. Clay decided to go ahead with the raid, and you know what happened from there."

She nodded. "I was pretty mad at y'all for not thinkin' more clearly and bein' more careful. I guess if Clay was hell bent on raidin' the joint, no amount of advance checkin' was gonna talk him out of it, would it?"

"Prolly not. But you _are_ right, babe. I've been fucking up lately. We didn't scout things out today before getting caught with our guard down."

"Maybe that's why you froze?" she offered hopefully.

'No, it's not the reason, but I can't tell _you_ the reason,' He took another swallow of beer. "It's possible," he replied. "If you're not careful, you can get yourself or someone else killed."

"I'm sorry for questionin' your actions when I wasn't there to see what happened. I should be more supportive, not critical," she said softly. She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze.

Alex put the beer on the table and reached over to her, putting his hand under her chin to force her to look at him. "Baby, I'd rather hear it from you than Clay any day of the week. I'm curious, what would_ you _have done differently?"

'Sometimes he's like a dog after a bone!' He held her chin to force her to look at him, so she continued, "Kept my feelin's about Chibs in check for one. Opie said the blinds were drawn, so peekin' through windows was out. There were only two guards on the main entrance, so I would've checked the other ones for guards."

"What good would that do?"

"If there were no guards, I would've been more suspicious about what was _really_ goin' on and thought a second time about goin' in."

His fingers tightened on her chin. 'There's no way she could know there were no guards at the door I used! She wasn't there!' His eyes began to glitter dangerously. 'Or was she? Could she have followed me out there?'

She stared intently at him, not liking the angry gleam in his eyes. "Listen, buster! Don't go gettin' all 'bad ass biker' on me for tellin' you what I think! If you're gonna break my jaw because you don't like what I'm sayin', hurry up and get it over with so I can kick your ass to the curb." She spoke calmly and evenly, her jaw under his fingers was hard as stone.

Her calm voice penetrated his suspicion. 'Dammit! She's not the enemy! There's no way she would've followed me and let us get busted!' he scolded himself. 'She told you after Zobelle's visit she has experience with hate groups!' He relaxed his grip on her chin, moving his hand up to caress her cheek. "I'm sorry, baby. I have no intention of hitting you. Not now, not _ever_."

She favored him with 'the look', which he returned with a contrite, apologetic grin. She took his hands 'just in case he flies off the handle again,' she assured herself. "All right. But keep the warnin' in mind, stud. I'm on your side, _comprende_?"

He nodded, his hands gently squeezing hers. "You know this because of your reporter background, right?"

She nodded. "I covered a few Klan rallies when I was a reporter. When it comes to membership rallies, both groups don't take kindly to interlopers. The Klan would post guards at every entrance. Y'all wouldn't have gotten in so easily if it'd been an actual membership thing. What upset me most was that ya'll weren't careful, let your anger take the lead, got careless and it got all y'all jailed."

"And that's what you told Opie?"

"That about sums it up. The lack of recon I could almost forgive, had y'all had the sense to back off once y'all knew the cops were on the way!" She released his hands to pace the floor in renewed agitation. "What the Hell were y'all thinkin'? No, don't answer that, there ain't no answer! A body expects a bunch of kids to go off half-cocked, but grown men should know better!"

Alex grinned at the way her temper was making her cheeks flush. The rise and fall of her chest from her rapid breathing was getting him aroused. "Wow! I feel a little sorry for Opie!"

She glared at him, knowing what was on his mind. She took a deep breath and replied,

"Well, it ain't fun fussin' at someone when they're not around to be fussed at!"

"You're right, baby. We let Zobelle play us the whole time."

"Now we've got to find a way to prove that the only thing y'all are guilty of is temporary brain damage," she grinned wickedly.

"Watch it, woman. You're treading on thin ice!" His warning held a hint of amusement to it. He held out his arms and she fell into them, burying her head in his chest. He stroked her hair, taking comfort in her presence and willingness to listen. "Y'know, I like it that you're being more open to club matters like this."

"Being on a need to know basis isn't good for you. The attack on Chibs and the arrest reminded me that what effects you affects me, too."

"You've always been supportive, even without full disclosure. Why change somethin' that ain't broke?"

"It_ is _broke when you feel like you can't confide in me, love and keep stuff bottled up inside. I bet you wouldn't have admitted y'all were goin' after Zobelle the other night if I hadn't brought it up."

"Yeah." He gazed at her intently, hoping that she wasn't just saying what she thought he wanted to hear. "You sure you wanna open yourself up to all this? There's no goin' back, baby."

"This is a partnership, love. I'm in it for the long haul, and it's time I start bein' a help to you instead of a pain in the ass."

Alex's arms tightened around her, his mind racing. 'I can't tell her the one thing messing with me, not this soon. I can't lose her yet.' He bent his head and kissed her hungrily. His desire for her never let up. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. Sex wasn't just a physical means to an end with her. 'Sometimes it seems like she's the only thing that keeps me from sinking. '

She responded to his kiss and his need for her just as ardently. "There's something that _you_ need to know, love. I ran into Chibs' wife, Fiona Hughes, today. She was sittin' in Chibs' room like a queen holdin' court. Do you know if Clay told the Ireland charter and they told her about Chibs?"

Alex frowned at the news. "No, baby. Clay didn't have the time. If Fiona's in town, that means Jimmy O is, too."

"Is that bad?"

He smiled grimly. "It ain't good for Chibs. I'll let Clay know in the morning. There's nothing we can do about it tonight."

Cat yawned sleepily. "Today feels like it lasted a year!"

"I agree, babe. Shall we call it a night?"

"Yeah. I'm tired. Hope you can curb that libido a bit longer. Maybe you'll get lucky in the mornin'."

"I know I will," he growled. His kiss was a promise.

Cat's dreams that night were haunted with images of the attacks on Chibs and Juice and of LuAnn's death. Those images gave way to Alex being carted off to Oregon, never to be seen or heard from again. The nightmares made her cry out in her sleep.

Hearing her cry out in the night brought Alex out of sleep in full Tig mode, alert to trouble. He felt real fear at the sight of her thrashing in her sleep as if she were battling an unseen foe.

He drew her close to him, pinning her arms with his hands and murmuring comforting words to her until she relaxed against him. She never fully awoke and he continued to whisper comforting words to her and nuzzle her neck until her breathing grew even again.

'Damn! I forgot that these last few days have been rough on her, too.' He snuggled against her, spoon style, hoping that she could sense his protective presence and that no other night demons would torment her.

* * *

The news of LuAnn Delaney's death had an affect on everyone connected with the club. No one knew whether LOAN or the rival porn producer Georgie Caruso had anything to do with her murder.

After leaving his mother's house and seeing Tara home safely, Jax went out to Caruso's studio to confront him about LuAnn. He discovered that production had shut down indefinitely, and found an actress willing to tell him the details.

"He rushed in, grabbed some stuff from his office and told everyone production was shut down before he took off," the actress informed Jax. "The asshole didn't say anything about paying us what he owes!" She was obviously upset with the producer, and had no qualms about telling Jax what he wanted to know. It certainly looked to him as if LuAnn had been Caruso's victim instead of Zobelle's.

That determination made it more difficult for him to face Big Otto at Stockton the next morning. Otto had asked him to keep LuAnn safe, and he'd failed. Otto was devastated by his loss, so it came as no surprise to Jax when Otto asked him to leave.

'It's probably better than getting socked in the jaw and Ottor getting solitary for it," Jax consoled himself. 'But it's not much better. He trusted me and I let him down.'

Alex awoke before Cat for once. He lay watching her sleep, wondering if he should just take a second 'rain check'. He examined the bandage on her hand, relieved that her thrashing around hadn't caused it to start bleeding again.

She stirred against him, her bandaged hand brushed against his chest. The texture of the gauze and tape made him instantly respond to her, despite his concern.

"Good mornin', love. Sleep well?" she murmured into his chest. She apparently had no memory of her nightmares.

"What do you think, woman?" he growled. "You ok?" He was actually thinking of the dreams that had disturbed her, but she mistook it for concern about her hand.

"You're welcome to find out, stud," she replied, letting her hand slide down his stomach. He didn't give her time to rescind the offer.

* * *

Clay, Opie, and Bobby went out to confer with Henry Lin about the gun deal. The Sons couldn't fulfill his order thanks to the ATF keeping an eye on their supplier. While waiting on Henry to arrive, Clay received a call from Rosen about the MCC fiasco.

"The surveillance tape is worthless. The quality is poor. We can tell where you guys were standing, and all the guns were pointing away from the crowd. The DA is on some kind of crusade, and refuses to consider dropping the charges. There's talk of charging you with terroristic threats."

Clay rolled his eyes. "Does he have a case?"

"Not really. None of the families are willing to testify on Zobelle's behalf. We have additional evidence that proves the shots weren't fired by you guys. I'll ask for a plea agreement to charge you with disorderly conduct and reckless endangerment with a firearm. No jail time, just community service."

"I'm all about serving the community," Clay replied. "What other evidence exists? I thought the tape was the only evidence."

"Cat took pictures of the podium the day after the arrest. The pictures show two shots were fired from behind it, not going into it. None of you were near it when the shots were fired, we can prove that much from the tape."

Clay's eyes widened with surprise. "Cat did that?" He would never have expected her to work to help clear them. It had surprised him to learn from Gemma of Cat's attempt to raise the bail money for Tig and the others as well as setting up the blood drive for Juice. 'The woman's having a change of heart about us. That'll be good for Tig.'

Clay shared the news about the tape and the lack of willing witnesses with Opie and Bobby, but chose not to say anything about Cat obtaining additional evidence to help them. He'd tell the club after he shared it with Tig.

Henry told Clay he could get guns but had problems with the Hammas pipeline due to INS entanglements. If the Sons could persuade the judge on the case to drop the charges, guns would flow easier for both sides.

Clay agreed to help as it was a win/win for both of them. 'Stahl's photos of the Hayes' meeting with Zobelle made it clear we've lost the IRA connection. This will be a good opportunity to replace it and get out of the porn business at the same time.'

When Jax returned from Stockton, Bobby warned him that Clay planned to pull the plug on the studio. Several of Caracara's actresses had been busted earlier that day for prostitution. Jax had gotten wind of the arrest from Unser, who'd caught up with the VP at the hospital while he and Prospect were visiting Chibs.

Jax had gone to the police station and talked to Ima, the actress that had a crush on him and one of the arrestees. He learned it wasn't Georgie Caruso who had set up the actresses. The timing of the call to the Caracara girls indicated Zobelle and LOAN was behind it. Jax was beginning to feel like his head was between a vice with LOAN and Zobelle twisting as hard as they could.

* * *

Alex insisted on examing Cat's wound before he left. He cleaned the puncture site thoroughly with peroxide again and looked it over for any signs of infection. He found no redness around the wound, the area appeared clean. He applied a clean gauze pad and tape to it. "I'd feel better if you had the doctor check it out," he advised. "Does it hurt?"

"No more than the puncture sites on my arms," she replied. "If the doc has time to see me, I'll go. Don't worry. It's minor compared to some of the wounds I've had to treat for you."

"Yeah, and you know what happened when the cut on my leg went untended too long," he countered.

"Don't remind me. You got the sliver out pretty quick, instead of several hours later. It'll be fine."

He glared at her as the prepaid beeped, alerting him to a message. "Goddamn stubborn, aggravating, annoying woman! You drive me crazy sometimes!" He pulled the prepaid from his pocket, listened and shut it off with a snort of annoyance. "Shit! I've gotta go. As far as the doctor is concerned. think about it, will ya?"

"I can do that," she replied, returning his goodbye hug and kiss. "See ya when I see ya."

Alex knew she wouldn't do more than consider his request, but didn't have time to debate the issue with her. 'There's more than one way to skin a Cat,' he thought as he stalked to his bike.

Though it meant incurring her wrath, Alex rode around the block to the coffeehouse and engaged Pete and Anna in a terse conversation concering Cat's injury.

"Don't worry, Mr. Tig," Anna replied, a soft smile lighting her face. "We'll make sure she goes to the doctor."

"Yeah," Pete added. "If she won't take care of herself, it's up to us to make sure she does, right?"

Tig nodded and winked at them. "Appreciate the back up. Good luck with her temper."

"You'll need it more than we will," Pete replied with a knowing grin.

"You're prolly right."

He retrieved the information Clay requested on the INS judge and rode out to the clubhouse. Bobby and Opie were already there, Bobby had made some banana bread but Tig wasn't hungry at the moment. He briefed Clay about the judge, anticipating having a part in the 'persuasion'. He was disappointed to be assigned to check out the Chinese gun supply and made no secret of it.

Clay sent the others out of the chapel and laid into Tig, reminding his Sergeant at Arms that they needed to draw Opie further into club dealings and why it was so important. 'As if I _need_ another reminder when it's constantly fuckin' with me!' Tig thought to himself. He agreed to the assignment, but he wasn't happy.

As Clay was showing Tig where the guns were to be tested, Jax burst into the chapel. Jax was angry that Clay wanted to close Caracara. The two got into a heated argument that included Clay reminding Jax he was responsible for LuAnn's death.

Jax pulled out his gun and armed it, causing the assembled Sons a moment of alarm. Tig tensed, ready to defend Clay if necessary, but Jax lay the gun on the table in front of Clay. He dared his step-father to make good on his threat from the first and only run for the IRA.

Jax spread his arms wide, his eyes never leaving Clay's fierce glare. Deliberately and slowly, Jax turned his back on his step-father, arms still outstretched, waiting. 'I feel bad enough about LuAnn, but Clay no business throwing LuAnn's death in my face! Not when he's responsible for killing a brother's wife!'

After a few tense moments where Clay held the gun in his hand, he made it safe and tossed it on the table. The VP reholstered his gun and declared the club would vote on the matter during 'church' the following evening. He walked out of the chapel, leaving confusion in his wake.

Tig remained upset over Clay's decision to exclude him from the 'persuasion' job. He wanted in on it, _needed_ to be in on it. He needed to find his way back from killing Donna. He also had doubts that Opie could carry out the assignment, considering how he'd botched the last one.

He approached Jax outside the clubhouse, asked to speak privately without Bobby or anyone else around who might take the conversation back to Clay. Jax was sick of secrets and refused to send Bobby away.

Tig laid his concerns about the job on the line with Jax. He wanted in as a back up, and felt Jax should be there to guide Opie. Jax felt Tig's concerns were valid and agreed to it. 'Tig's had his own issues since he killed Donna. He doesn't know I know. Frankly, I'm sick to Hell of all this back biting going on.'

They agreed to meet up later in order to take one vehicle to the judge's house. Tig nodded and went off on his bike. It wouldn't take him long to check the gun shipment. There was someone he wanted to see before the assignment.

* * *

Health and food rules prevented Cat from serving customers, roasting beans, or making pastries. That didn't bother her, there was always something else for her to do. What did perturb her was that Anna and Pete ganged up on her, forcing her to call the doctor for an appointment about her hand. "Y'all been talkin' to Tig behind my back!" She snarled.

"He did happen to come by, and mentioned you were being difficult. We volunteered to help," Pete replied, laughing at her scowling visage. "He just wants to make sure you're ok, Miss Cat. So do we."

"Damn fine thing when one's boyfriend and employees conspire," she fumed, accepting the receiver Miss Anna handed her to speak with her physician. There was an opening within a half hour, so she accepted it, more to get her staff off her back. "If y'all talk to Tig, and I'm sure y'all will, tell him he's not heard the last of this. Y'all are rats! Cats eat rats for dinner, y'know!"

"We love you, too, Miss Cat," Pete replied with a laugh and a wave as she huffed out to the car.

The physician looked over the wound, applauded Tig's first aid, gave her a tetanus shot as it had been years since her last one, and wrote a prescription for an antibiotic. "Keep it clean and dry as much as possible, change the bandage if you ride, and see me in a week to check it."

"As long as you're writin' out stuff, doc, will you do me a favor and write a note to prove I was here? It might keep my employees and my boyfriend off my back. Damn rats."

The doctor laughed goodnaturedly. In the short time she'd had Cat as a patient, she'd grown used to the woman's temperament. "Underneath the tough exterior beats a heart of gold. She's got a temper, but she's a good friend to have at your back," her cousin, who had been Cat's Indianapolis physician had written. "You take care of her, she'll watch out for you." She wrote a note on her prescription pad and handed it to Cat with a flourish. "Let me know if that doesn't suffice."

Cat returned to the coffeehouse, showed off her doctor's note and retired to the office area with Mr. Pete to work on the karaoke selections for the rally.

Miss Anna's children and their classmates had made several posters about the karaoke night. Two of those posters appeared on either side of the entrance to _Charming Pawse _the morning after the club's release from jail. By the end of the day, her male employees had taken them to the merchants up and down Main Street, asking and receiving permission to display the posters in their windows.

Only one merchant refused. AJ Weston had run Pete and Adrian out of _Impeccable Smokes _with threats of bodily harm if they ever crossed the threshold again. The men deliberately wanted to tweak Zobelle and his crew by their request, and had anticipated the reaction they received. Pete and Adrian were laughing out loud at Weston's reaction when they returned to the coffeehouse.

Their visit didn't faze Zobelle at all, but it did make Weston more determined than ever to strike out against Cat on behalf of LOAN. Zobelle laughed off the rally as no consequence to him or to LOAN and refused to discuss the matter with Weston. "She's of no concern to us, AJ, except as a means to an end. We need to adjust and adapt from our mistake with Gemma Morrow before we do anything against Ms. Marshall."

Weston took those words to heart. He _would_ watch how the Sons interacted with the Marshall whore, and if he could use her to hurt the club, he'd do it, with or without Zobelle's approval. As far as the rally against LOAN, if Zobelle wasn't willing to stand up for the Cause, Weston would.

"That might not've been the smartest move, Pete," Cat admonished him when he told her of their confrontation with Weston. "Zobelle and his group are gonna be annoyed with the rally as it is, we shouldn't rub their noses in it and invite trouble."

Pete and the other men looked disappointed. They thought their boss would appreciate their efforts. How could they have read it so wrong?

She maintained her disapproving scowl for a few more seconds then relented. "OK, that's the Tig response. We won't tell him. Unofficially, I'm tickled pink you rubbed their noses in it. It's sweet revenge for Zobelle and Weston tryin' to intimidate Anna."

She and Pete had worked out a basic outline of the upcoming event when Anna announced that a Harley was parking out front. Cat walked out to the business area so she could see firsthand the reaction the club visitor might have to the posters.

She was surprised to see Alex out front and watched as he strode to the door and paused to examine the posters. He pinched his nose with the fingers of one hand. 'That's not good,' she thought. "Anna, get a cup of black coffee ready for Tig. He looks like he needs it."

She wordlessly handed the cup to him as soon as he marched inside. "Thanks, baby. Looks like you're fully committed to this thing."

"You had your chance to voice objections to it. You didn't and we have a tight schedule here. Somethin' I need to know?"

He sipped the coffee, appreciating the warmth it gave his insides. The day was not going well, the latest clash between Clay and Jax had been chilling, even though it was a balmy 80 degrees outside. "Nah. You call the doc yet?"

"Yup, no worries. You did good."

He looked beyond her to Miss Anna and Pete, who nodded affirmatively. "She even brought a doctor's note," Pete grinned.

"That reminds me," Cat growled, slapping Tig's ass with her good hand. "No fair turnin' my staff into rats!"

"All's fair, baby. You should know by now I'll do what I have to do to get what I want. Especially when you're stubborn."

She favored him with 'the look' as he grinned wickedly at her. Her employees watched in amusement at them. Tig rubbed his backside, surprised that her slap actually stung. "Damn! You're gonna answer for that, woman!"

"Not in here, please!" Miss Anna interjected, her ears turning a bright shade of pink. "You two _do_ have a house for that kind of thing!"

"All right already!" Cat snarled, though she was smiling good naturedly. "Bunch of comedians, the lot of ya! Maybe I oughta consider an open mike comedy hour. Y'all are good for three seconds of material!"

Her comment was met with a chorus of cat-calls before her employees returned to their duties. "I have to pick up an antibiotic later, you'll be pleased to know. The doc said to keep it clean and dry as much as possible, and I had to get a shot!" She handed over the doctor's note to him. Instead of reading it and handing it back to her, he took out his wallet and stuffed it inside. "For safekeeping," he assured her.

"Hmpf!" She took his arm and added, "Wanna sit in the office for a bit? I'll show you some of the stuff we're workin' on for the rally."

He nodded, slipping an arm around her shoulders as they walked into the back. The employees exchanged a knowing grin. It felt good to them to have the pair back on good terms. The fight they'd had after Tig was injured was short lived, but it had scared her staff badly. Getting to be involved in the teasing made them feel a part of something special.

"Two bucks says they're not gonna stay in the back office," Pete murmured to Anna. She snorted a refusal, knowing that she'd lose.

Pete was right. They walked on out to the back yard to talk. Cat felt it would be better than the back office. "Less chance the rat pack will hear somethin' they shouldn't," she explained when Alex gazed questioningly at her.

"C'mon, baby. Go easy on them. They care about you," Alex replied. "If you're gonna be hissed off at someone, be mad at me."

"Don't worry, you'll get what's comin' to ya!"

He grinned lecherously at her. "I'm ready when you are."

"Insatiable thing! C'mon, Alex. Be serious with me. You didn't just stop by for a casual visit. What's up?"

Alex looked sideways at her. "What makes you think that anything's up?"

"The way you pinched your nose when you saw the posters. What's wrong?"

"Nothing where this rally of yours is concerned. It just surprised me at how fast this has moved from an idea to an event. You're not wasting time."

"Alex, you're stallin'. That's not like you. You didn't come all the way out here just to pump me for intel on the rally. There's somethin' botherin' you. Talk to me."

He sipped the coffee and laid a hand on hers. "You read me pretty well, baby. I'm gonna be out all night on an assignment. After the MCC FUBAR, I didn't want to just leave a message about it."

Cat stretched her legs out in front of her, absorbing what his disclosure meant. "You're takin' a walk on the dark side tonight, comes with the territory. Do you wanna give me the specifics now?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I'll fill you in when it's over. The less you know now, the better for you in case something goes wrong."

She started to protest, but his hand against her lips prevented it. "Hear me out, baby. You can be more of a help to us with clean hands. You've already proved your loyalty to me and to the club. I'm looking at the big picture."

"I understand," she said. This was a new area for them. Just like there was no guide book for wives/old ladies, there was no guide for full disclosure.

"Wait here a minute, I've gotta get a shirt from the house. Be right back." He got up from the lawn chair and strode into the house, returning a few minutes later with a grey sweatshirt in his hand.

He settled in his chair, stretching his legs in front of him and lit up a cigarette. "Might interest you to know you're not the only one who's turned off by porn. Clay wants the club out of it. He and Jax argued about it earlier. Jax invited him to gun him down."

Cat stiffened in her chair. "Good Lord! What's wrong with those two?"

"I don't know, baby. Clay didn't shoot him. He feels that we don't need the partnership with Caracara anymore, not just because LuAnn's dead, but because we have other ventures."

"Does that mean y'all are dropping out of the coffeehouse?"

"Nah. It's as clean as you are, baby. It's a legit cover and we need that. The Caracara girls fucked up, that's what pissed Clay and made him decide to get out of porn. We don't need that kind of grief."

She sighed with relief. She liked the partnership with the club. Her employees appreciated their presence and protection, and she'd personally come to like the various members of the Sons who frequented the coffeehouse. They'd become her second family.

The sunlight hit her face just right, and Alex frowned to see two dark spots on either side of her chin. They were barely visible, but his sharp eyes had caught them. His hand cupped her chin, fitting his fingers against the two dark spots. They were a perfect fit. "Damn, I did that last night."

"It's OK, love. Doesn't hurt, no more than beard rash or a hickey, which you've often left behind."

He placed a kiss on each of the bruises in apology. "I should be in better control of myself. Passionate beard rash is one thing. Leaving bruises on you because you're saying something I don't like is crossing the line.'

"Do you see me callin' the cops and havin' you up on charges of abuse?" she replied, one hand caressing his cheek. "If you _ever_ hit me, I'm gone. You didn't do this deliberately. You weren't malicious or mean. I'll tell you when you're too rough. Not to change the subject, when do you have to leave?"

He looked at his watch and drained his coffee cup. "Now. Gotta go check some hardware, then off to the assignment."

"Be safe, love. I'll be waitin' when you get back."

"Don't wait up, but be ready to give me what's coming to me when I get home," he reminded her. He pulled her up against him, enjoying how she fit against him. His chin rested on her head for moment before he cupped her chin and raised her face to his. She returned the goodbye kiss with an equal amount of ardor, a hint of what awaited him on his return.

They walked back through the coffeehouse to his bike. She watched as he put on his helmet, then she slapped his butt for the benefit of her employees and blew a kiss at him. "See ya when I see ya," she said as he started the bike. He grinned at her and roared away.

It didn't take long to check out the hardware. A good haul of guns, along with ammo. 'Prospect could've handled this with his eyes closed," Tig

grumbled to himself. 'I can't argue with keeping Opie close to the club under the circumstances, but I hope Clay gets over this shit. Hell, I hope _I_ get over this shit!'

Tig rode to the meeting place and climbed into the back of the van with Jax. Opie had taken the change in players with his usual stoicism, and didn't seem surprised when Tig joined them.

It was still daylight when they reached the judge's home outside Oakland. Just as Tig's intel had indicated, the house was upscale and secured by a tall hedge and a security gate.

Bobby parked the van next to the hedge and Tig inspected it. The hedge wouldn't be a hinderence, it could be easily climbed. It was more decorative than protective.

They sat in the van waiting for the judge to arrive. The plan was to talk to the judge, inform him of the importance of dismissing the case against Lin's man or his son would suffer the consequences. An easy job, and once completed it was just a matter of waiting to make sure the judge followed through.

The judge's silver luxury vehicle stopped in front of the gate and the Sons readied themselves to strike. Jax and Tig would take care of the judge while Bobby watched the front. The goal was to get him in the house as quickly and quietly as possible.

Following Alex's depature, Cat and Pete returned to the office to map out the remainder of the program. Then she turned her attention to administrative matters for the coffeehouse. She had decided to go ahead with merchandise, and called her cup supplier to discuss the cups she wanted to sell.

"We're not just local anymore, Jim," she explained to her supplier. "That's why I feel the time is right to offer some merchandise. We have a website that's generated a lot of interest and sales outside the county and state for our flavored beans."

"Are you planning any design changes?"

"Nope. What I need from you are photos of what you can do on soup size mugs, regular size coffee cups, travel tumblers and water bottles. Once you start production, we'll run 'em on line and here at the shop for sale."

"I'll have designs and prices in your inbox in a few hours, Cat."

"Ok, Jim. While you're at it, go ahead and send our standing order for the paper cups."

She hung up feeling satisfied with the step she'd taken. 'Bobby will be happy that we're getting the merchandise off the ground; more money for the club. Now I gotta remember to have Alex hook me up with the shirt supplier the garage uses. Might as well go whole hog.'

She wanted to put the cup design on the shirts, and knew it could work. 'It'd be nice if we could have shirts for the staff in time for the rally, debut 'em then. Then we can put 'em on the web site and offer them locally.' She wasn't an artist, but it wasn't hard to take a sheet of paper, draw a t-shirt, and add the cup design to the t-shirt. Though crude, the general idea of the shirts was clear.

During the evening, she did internet research, surfing the net for pictures of historical events to use in the opening. She set up file folders for each decade from World War II through 9/11. Each time she found an event, she saved it to the appropriate file. The hard part would be selecting which few pictures to use. There were so many!

The two-way remained silent throughout the evening, but she wasn't worried. 'Alex said the assignment would likely take all night. There's no need to call and ask if he's OK.' It occurred to her she could always leave a message, but she opted not to. 'Talkin' to voice mail won't be satisfyin'. If somethin' happens, he'll see to it that I get word.'

She put beer, Snickers bars, and a foil wrapped dinner plate in the fridge. Then she put the phones on the charger, leaving the two-way on as she turned in for the night. Her gaze fell on the framed picture of him. "Come home soon and be safe, love," she murmured.

Prospect was mopping the clubhouse floor when Happy passed through, nearly running Clay down. Clay was surprised to see Happy, since he'd been assigned to go with Opie and Bobby to the judge's house.

Happy explained the change, which made Clay go ballistic, turning over a table in anger. He calmed down as he remembered he needed help to flush Darby's less desirable ventures out of Charming. He told Happy to call the nomads together, the club had been deputized to get prostitution and crank out of Charming.

Clay, Prospect, Happy and the nomads had an enjoyable time rounding up the prostitutes and johns from the seedier motels in the area and turning them over to the local PD. Hale had also given Clay the location of Darby's newest crank factory. Clay thought it was appropriate that the factory was housed in a junkyard.

The Sons allowed Darby's men to clear out of the crank shop, which was an abandoned trailer. Happy threw a Molotov cocktail inside. The resulting explosion set off car alarms within a quarter mile radius, and effectively shut down Darby's meth operation.

Clay added a very final warning to the Nord leader pertaining to his operation. Darby had survived a hit from the Mayans but he doubted he'd be as lucky with the Sons. Still, he smarted over having his businesses shut down. He intended to sort that matter out with Zobelle then get even with the Sons.

* * *

Tig and Bobby met Clay in the Teller Morrow parking lot as Opie and Jax walked to their bikes. All four men were fatigued. Opie and Jax rode off without a word to Clay as Tig reported the guns had checked out.

Clay asked where the other two were going, Bobby stated they were going home. The job had been completed, they'd waited to make sure the judge followed through.

'Home. That's where I wanna go,' Tig thought. He was still shaken from being unable to take over where Opie had left off with the judge. It was another FUBAR on his part and he hoped Bobby wouldn't bring it up. 'Not now, man. Let's get some rest, then we can discuss it.'

Clay nodded. A full debriefing could wait. The job was done, that was the main thing. "Go home. We'll talk later."

Tig breathed an inward sigh of relief. Sunrise was only a couple of hours old. 'Cat'll be awake soon, if she's not already. I need to be with her; everything seems to make sense when I'm with her.'

He patted the silent two-way in his pocket. He'd debated giving it to her all those months ago, wondering if it would be more of a tether than tool. She'd never abused it. He seemed to call her more than vice versa. 'Any other woman would drive me nuts calling the damn thing all the time. Maybe that's why I trusted her with it in the first place.'

The front porch and living room lights were on, casting a warm, welcoming glow. He strode inside and walked straight to the refrigerator. There were several bottles of beer, a few Snickers bars, and a foil wrapped plate waiting for him. There was also a note taped to the foil:

"Hey. If you're hungry, remove the foil and heat in the microwave for three minutes. If it's after 830 AM when you come in, would you please turn on the coffeepot? Cat."

He grinned and checked his watch, which read 830. He didn't hear any signs of life from the bedroom, but he complied with her request to start the coffee brewing and muched on a Snickers bar while waiting for the cycle to run. He didn't feel like having a beer, his nerves were frayed and this was one time beer wouldn't help. 'I need coffee and a snack more than alcohol and a full meal.'

He filled two cups with the hot beverage, adding some of Cat's favorite creamer to hers and walked into the bedroom. She was curled up facing his side of the bed, her bandaged hand resting on Misty, who was curled as close as possible to her. Both feline and human were sleeping peacefully. There was no indication that she'd had nightmares again while he was gone. It was quite a difference from the other night when she'd been plagued by the bad dreams that woke him.

He crept to her bedside table and placed the cup of coffee on it, then stroked her hair before moving to the other side of the room to the chair. 'I'm tired, but too wound up to sleep. Don't wanna disturb her. I'll just sit and watch her awhile.'

He had just gotten settled when he saw a pair of green eyes gazing at him from under brown fringe. "Hey," she called sleepily to him.

"Hey, back," he replied. "There's coffee on the table."

"You're not gonna make me _earn_ it this time?" She petted Misty as she eased into a sitting position against the headboard.

Alex didn't wait for her to reach for her coffee cup. He placed his cup on his night stand and jumped onto the bed. "I can take payment for room service!" He took her in his arms and kissed her soundly as she laughed against his mouth. Misty squeaked in protest over nearly being squished and scooted to the foot of the bed, lashing her tail in distaste.

Cat was happy to see him, but she could sense there was something troubling him. 'Something didn't go well with the assignment,' she thought, slipping her glasses on when he released her. She sipped a little coffee while gazing intently at him. His eyes were red, and not from having pulled an 'all nighter'. "Something go wrong last night?"

"Damn! Am I that easy to read? I'm really fuckin' up! Not even a nice to see ya or missed ya!" he exclaimed, sipping his own coffee.

"No, love, you're not fuckin' up. I would've thought the 'nice to see ya, missed ya last night' was inherent in the room service payment!" she replied. "You just look like somethin' went knockers up. Need to talk about it?"

'God, I love those colorful descriptions she uses! It might be easier to talk to her before the shit hits the fan with Clay.' He sighed deeply and asked. "You don't mind?"

"Alex, if I minded, I wouldn't offer," she replied, reaching out to clasp his hand in hers. "Tell me whatever you feel comfortable in tellin' me."

He decided to throw caution to the winds. "You know by now we're not 'just' a few mechanics with an interest in Harley's."

She nodded. "It wasn't hard to figure out. Y'all don't exactly channel the light side of the Force, y'know."

He glared at her. 'This is no time for humor,' he though, but her expression was serious. 'She's not poking fun, it's her way of telling me she knows we aren't law abiding citizens,' his glare softened as he added, "We run contraband like you did, 'cept we run guns instead of booze."

"Same thing, different substance. I suppose y'all have had a few rumbles with rival gangs as well?"

He smiled grimly. "Haven't heard that word in years, but you could call 'em that. We keep the businesses local. Sometimes we're asked to 'persuade' people to see things a certain way. Like I told you long ago, I've done things that would scare you, things I'm not proud of. Most of the time, I did what had to be done, especially if it was a choice of me or them. I prefer living."

"I know," she said softly. "What's got you wound up tighter than the springs in Tigger's tail?"

He sipped at his coffee, momentarily wishing he'd brought a beer with him. 'Nah. Don't need liquid courage to talk to her.' He looked directly into her eyes as he replied, "Last night, a few of us went to 'persuade' a fella. We had intel that was supposed to give us emotional leverage. Things started out OK, but went to Hell fast."

She sat silently, her hands wrapped around her coffee cup. Her green eyes were clear and calm as she listened. Her open, non judgemental expression encouraged him to continue.

"The guy had a kid away at college. We were gonna use threats against the kid as that leverage. No one thought the kid would come home while we were persuading the father. Turned out the father doesn't give a shit about his kid."

Alex stood up and paced the bedroom, causing Misty to leap from the bed and run out the door. The FUBAR of the night before was still so fresh, he could close his eyes and see it unwind all over again.

* * *

Clad in dark clothes and ski masks, the Sons hustled the judge into his house and tied him to a chair in the kitchen. They were preparing to use their powers of persuasion when they stiffened at the sound of a key in the lock of the front door.

Tig was standing closest to the front door. He indicated he'd take care of the intruder and crouched in readiness. The door opened and a young man entered the living room, carrying an armload of possesssions. He leaped behind the youngster, shut the door and knocked the kid to the floor. His possessions flying all over the place.

Tig marched the kid into the kitchen where his father was tied up. His initial thought was that their 'emotional leverage' had just dropped into their laps and would make the job easier. The kid's father glared angrily at his child and held him accountable for the Sons' presence.

Tig's heart skipped a beat when he heard the judge utter his given name. 'Damn! We're fucked!' Then he realized the younger man shared his first name. Tig was relieved that his true identity was still a secret.

The kid was quickly tied to another chair and placed next to his father, who refused to look at his offspring. He was unconcerned that his child was frightened to death. 'This is not good,' Tig thought, watching the interaction between father and son.

It was obvious their quarry didn't care what the Sons did to his kid, but Opie thought there was a chance of salvaging the situation. 'He thinks no father would let his kid be deliberately hurt in front of him. He's thinking like a caring parent. I don't think this guy gives a shit.'

The Sons watched as Opie did everything he could to use the man's son as a tool. The judge continued to ignore his son's plight and didn't bat an eye when Opie shot the kid's toe, nor did he comment when Opie's gun hovered over the kid's knee.

'Man, I've seen cold hearted assholes before, this guy almost makes me look like an amateur!' It bothered Tig that a father could care so little about his own child.

Opie was enraged by the judge's contempt for his son and knocked the younger man, still tied to the chair, onto his back. Though Jax and Bobby tried to stop him, Opie was as strong as a charging bull. He hollered for the judge to watch, and shoved the barrel of his gun into the kid's mouth, forcing it in as far as it would go.

Opie was so worked up that the Sons thought he would kill the kid. All the guys were yelling at once. 'I'm no candidate for father of the year, but if anyone threatened my girls right in front of me, I'd do everything possible to protect 'em.' Tig felt his innards freeze, as if a giant, cold fist had clamped onto them.

'I can't tell Cat what happened next. If I do, then the shit about Donna will come out, and I'll lose her. No matter how much it fucks with me, I can't do it!' The only thing keeping him going was that she didn't look frightened or upset by what he'd shared so far. There was no hatred or condemnation for him in her expresion.

He continued pacing in agitation. 'How can I tell her that I saw what Opie would do to me if he ever finds out the truth?' As he paced, he recalled that dreadful waking nightmare of what might happen. Instead of the judge's kid, he'd seen himself lying on the floor, tied to a chair, with Opie's gun shoved to the back of his throat, while an enraged, grief stricken Opie crouched over him, yelling in guttural rage. 'How can I say that when he fired those shots my body jerked in cadence and there was no one to prevent it from happening? God help me, I can't!'

Alex's pacing reminded her of a caged wildcat wanting to be released from its prison. 'Whatever is bothering him, I can't force him to tell me.' She remained silent, waiting with an open mind and heart.

Alex breathed deeply as he paced and continued, "At the last minute, the gun was pulled out of the kid's mouth and three shots were fired into the wood floor instead. There was no sound in the house but our heavy breathing and the kid's whimpering. The guy just looked at us in stony anger that we didn't kill his kid.'

"Judas Priest!" she whispered. She was aghast at the man's attitude herself, and could only imagine how Alex would've taken it, despite his absentee father status.

"I froze again. When it was my turn to do some 'persuading', I couldn't do it!' In actuality, he had slumped against a piece of furniture, his body shaking uncontrollablly from his waking nightmare. "Oh shit, oh shit! I can't do this!" The words had tumbled out of his mouth while the ski mask covered his tears.

"But the job _did _get done and the guy saw things all y'all's way," she observed quietly.

"Yeah. We found the emotional leverage we needed. The guy's a widower; he kept a lot of letters from his wife. We threatened to destroy those and got what we were after."

"Does Clay know what went down?"

He shook his head, his hand pinching his nose. "Only that the job was done."

"He may not find out about you freezin', love. Whoever else was with you won't benefit by rattin' you out to Clay. If my opinion means anything, seems like it would cause more trouble in the long run!"

Alex sat down next on her side of the bed, his shoulders slumped in fatigue and dispair. "I wish it were that easy, baby. That makes twice in a week that I've not been able to do what was necessary."

"Out of how many times? Thousands?" she put her hands on his shoulders and drew him back against her chest, her hands rubbing lightly against his temples, massaging away the stress from the night's endeavors.

"Everybody goes through rough spots, Alex! It's a part of life," she continued. "Sounds like the father in you reacted to how that asshole treated his kid. Any decent parent would! There's obviously something going on between that man and his kid that is fucked up big time. You couldn't have known that."

Alex kept his eyes closed as she continued massaging his temples. 'I hate lying to her, but it's safer this way." He relaxed under her ministrations. His headache was receding and he was feeling less tense. "You might be right. No use worrying about it until it happens."

"How can I help?"

It was a simple question. "You already are. I appreciate that you don't call the two-way to check on me when I'm on business."

She shook her head. "It's so little. I'm no shrink, but it seems like your self confidence has taken a nose dive lately. What's it gonna take to help you get it back?"

"I can think of something you can do that will help a _lot_," he grinned lecherously. "I think you owe me something for making your staff rat on you?"

"You're always thinkin' about that!" she laughed, moving her hands from his head to reach under his shirt, her hands moving over his chest in rythmic circles. He gazed up at her under heavily lidded eyes. She bent over him and kissed him deeply, allowing him to do whatever he wanted to purge his own demons.

He slept a few hours while she worked on the montage for the rally. When he woke up, she had coffee brewed and he found her in the library, sitting on the floor surrounded by vinyl albums and CD cases. She had a notepad in her lap and a pen behind her ear.

He carried a cup of fresh coffee with him and settled in the rocker to keep her company as she worked. "You sorting through stuff for a yard sale?"

"Not hardly. Lookin' for music to use for the openin'. I want something appropriate from the 60's on up to the current day, stuff that'll set the mood."

"Looking for anything in particular?"

"I'm not sure yet. The 60s are the easiest; that's the Peace era. The other decades are gonna be harder. Right now, I'm just cullin' through our library for ideas."

Alex grinned at her use of the word 'our' for the music collection. "Don't recall that I contributed anything to this library of 'ours'."

"You know the old sayin', love. What's mine is yours and vice versa. Haven't heard you complain about _that_ benefit."

His gaze took in the four long shelves of vinyl, two towers of CDs that stood as tall as him, and another tall tower of cassettes. "We do have an extensive music collection. Need some help?"

She shook her head. "Not with this. But there is somethin'." She stood up and stepped nimbly over the stacks of music, holding out her hand to him. "C'mon to the office, I wanna show you somethin'."

She took out a folder from the desk and handed it to him. He opened it and found her work-up of the proposed _Charming Pawse_ shirts.

"The drawings aren't the best; I can't draw a straight line with a ruler. Will the shirt suppliers for Teller Morrow be able to make sense out of 'em?"

Alex removed the renderings from the folder, looking over the white on black long sleeve and black on tan short sleeve shirts. "This is your plan for merchandise, right?"

She nodded. "There's gonna be cups too. Jim, my supplier, sent the pics and prices last night. Thanks to Juice's work on the webpage, we've been doin' a lot of flavored bean sales outside the county and state. Stands to reason that the merchandise will sell just as well."

"Makes good sense to me, baby. Why just one long sleeved black?"

"That's for me. The tan is for the staff. Could the shirt supplier get these made up before the rally? I know it's short notice, but I'd like to debut the shirts then."

"They will. I'll make sure of it."

She glared at him. "Alex, I don't want you intimidating them."

He assumed an innocent 'who me?' expression. "Baby, I'm hurt! I don't intimidate, I 'persuade'. Besides, if they wanna keep Teller Morrow happy, they'll have your shirts ready. I'll take 'em there later."

Satisfied with his response, she fixed a hearty breakfast for him. They listened to her favorite radio station while he ate. The hourly news led with the story about an overnight fire at Caracara Studios. The report indicated that arson was suspected and the entire interior of the building was destroyed.

"Damn! Chucky was crashing there!" Alex fumed. He felt concerned about Chucky; it was his idea for the little guy to work there. He secretly liked the weird accountant; it took balls to jerk off in front of other people, whether it was a mental problem or not.

"He's probably ok, love," Cat observed. "If anyone had been killed, it would've been the lead part of the story. I suspect Chucky's just laying low out of fear that he's gonna be accused."

"I hope you're right, babe."

When Tig arrived at the clubhouse, he learned that Jax blamed Clay for the fire, and had announced his intention to go nomad. That would take time to arrange, but Tig was wholeheartedly behind the idea. 'It'll put an end to all the tension within the club!'

Gemma had been busy with making arrangements for LuAnn's funeral at Otto's request. It was questionable if Otto would be able to attend. Not that the warden wouldn't allow him to attend, the state's budget problems left precious little cash in reserve to pay the guards that would escort him.

There _was_ an option. Not only did it require the posting of a cash bond, but someone without a criminal record would have to take responsibility for Otto during his furlough.

The money wasn't a concern for SAMCRO. There weren't very many people in their circle who didn't have some kind of criminal record. The only people they trusted who had 'clean hands' were either Tara or Cat.

The club met to discuss the matter. Jax and Piney were the only members not in attendance. Jax was away and hadn't answered his phone. Piney was up at his cabin and hadn't been heard from in days, but that wasn't unusual.

"The biggest problem about this is Otto doesn't know either of them very well and vice versa. With Agent Stahl sniffing around, we can't have one of them sign him out and we put him up here. Stahl will be watching for something like that." Clay explained.

"Whichever lady we ask, providing she accepts the job, will have to get comfortable with Otto real fast," Bobby observed. "That's a lot to ask of either when they've never met him."

"We can't allow a brother to miss his wife's funeral. Both of them have done a lot for the club, that'll mean a lot to Otto," Clay added.

"Why not put the question to them and see who steps up?" Prospect offered from his spot behind Jax's vacant chair.

"Because Cat's already done a lot without being asked first. More than Tara to be honest," replied Bobby.

"With Jax planning to go nomad, would Tara _want_ to help us now?" Opie added.

"You've been pretty quiet about this, Tig," Happy said.

"Because I_ know_ what my old lady will do," he growled. "Just waiting for the jaw jacking to get done so you can hear it from her."

"Then let's hear it!" Half Sack urged.

At a nod from Clay, Tig withdrew the two-way and waited for Cat to answer before putting her on the loudspeaker.

"Hey, babe, have you on speaker. The club needs a favor."

"Hey back. Hello, guys!" She called out. "What's up?"

"Otto needs someone without a criminal record to sign him out for LuAnn's funeral." Clay explained.

This was no surprise to her; she and Alex had discussed the situation before he left after his breakfast. "If that's what it's gonna take so he can bury his wife, I'm in." she replied.

Tig never doubted her response. He gripped the phone tighter, wishing she was on the receiving end of the appreciative squeeze. 'I'll make up for it later.' The others let out a loud collective sigh of relief.

"So what do I have to do? Besides pick him up from prison and bring him back, that is."

"Well, there's the chance you'll be cuffed to him the entire time," Prospect replied.

Bobby glared at the younger rider. "That might not be needed, Cat. The guy's nearly blind."

There was a long silence on her end. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Tig, may we speak privately?"

"Sure, babe," he cast a look that snarled 'way to go!' at Half-Sack. He took the phone off speaker and added, "It's just you and me. You having second thoughts because of what Prospect said?"

"No, love. I'm just wondering how _you_ feel about the idea of me bein' handcuffed to another fella," she explained.

He could picture that wayward eyebrow of hers sneaking up her forehead, and the grin that accompanied it. "I trust you."

"You _do _understand, dearheart, that if I'm cuffed to Otto, you would finally have me in a _menage __a trois? _ I seem to recall that bein' one of your fantasies. Course, it'd be you two men and me as opposed to two women and you. Might not be as much fun for you."

"Woman, you - are – so – evil!" he growled. Wild roars of laughter broke out around the table as the club caught on to the gist of their conversation.

"I just wanted you to be aware of the big picture, love. You can put me back on speaker if you want."

"You'll pay for that, woman," he snarled as he switched the phone back into loudspeaker mode. His comment was met with more racous laughs.

"So you're in, Cat?" Clay asked once the riders' settled down under his icy glare.

"I'm in. Just one question. Is there any way for me to meet with Otto before we bring him back to Charming? I don't think it's fair to spring me on him without advance warning."

'Hell, it's not fair to spring him on _you_, baby,' Tig thought. 'But that's what we're doing.'

"You and Tig can go there today. He knows Otto and can introduce you. You can fill out the paperwork," Clay replied. "We owe you, Cat."

"No, you don't, Clay. I'll see ya when I see ya, Tig."

"Later, babe." He closed the phone and slipped it in his pocket. "If we're done, I'll go get her and head to Stockton."

"We're done. Happy, get the word out to the charters and nomads so that we have plenty of riders for escort. Bobby, you and Prospect might want to get Otto's bike out, check it over and clean it up. He can't ride, but the man may want to visit his bike."

The only thing that troubled Cat about taking responsibility for Otto was the idea of being attached at the wrist to someone she didn't know. Despite the fact that he was a Son and Alex vouched for him, the idea was a little nerve wracking. The two-way beeped for her attention as she was mulling over the situation. "Hey!"

"Hey, back. How soon can you be ready to ride?"

"As soon as I put on my jacket," she replied.

"I'm on my way to pick you up. Be sure to get your helmet out of the closet. I want to see it on your head when I get there."

"I'll be ready and waiting," she promised. She smiled at his constant battle with her over safety gear. She rarely wore a helmet in town, but would for any out of town runs. Alex knew that. He would prefer she wear it every time she rode and never failed to remind her.

She was leaning against her bike when he pulled into the driveway. He surprised her by gesturing for her to get behind him. As she settled on the seat, he explained, "I thought you might appreciate a little togetherness."

"Makes bein' forced to wear the brain bucket a little more tolerable," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. She signaled with a thumbs up that she was ready to roll.

During the ride to Stockton, though she was sorely tempted to play 'United Nations' (Russian hands and Roman fingers) on him, Cat kept her hands dutifully locked around his waist. They were riding and he needed to be able to keep his concentration on the road. That didn't prevent him from engaging the throttle lock for the straightaways and engaging in some fast fingerwork of his own on her!

Alex enjoyed having her sitting behind him. It reminded him of the first time he'd taken her on the back of his bike. 'It's a lot better when she's awake, though I wish she didn't keep her hands perfectly still! We need to double up more often.'

Cat had seen the inside of a jail before, when her junkie boyfriend was a guest of the county and she'd gone to visit him. The visitation process hadn't changed, there was a lot of hurry up and wait. She and Alex signed in, showed their driver's licenses and were searched for contraband.

When she asked about the process of getting Otto released to her for the funeral, she was whisked from Tig to meet with an intake officer for an interview. She then had to fill out a large pile of forms, get fingerprinted, and wait for her background check to come through. 'I'm surprised they don't ask for a piss sample!' she thought as she waited.

"Well, Ms. Marshall, your record is clear," the warden announced. She'd been left in the waiting area for over an hour after the interview and feeling claustrophobic. "Not even a parking ticket in twenty years."

"So Otto can go to his wife's funeral?"

"Yes, you can pick him up tomorrow and he'll have a 48 hour furlough."

"I appreciate it, sir. Thank you. Will he have to be handcuffed to me?"

"Normally it's required. I'm waving that because of the recent injury he sustained. He's going through enough right now; there's no need to put him through further distress."

She made the necessary arrangements for the following day. She was then reunited with Alex, who'd been left waiting for her in the reception area.

"Everything go ok?" He asked anxiously, knowing how she felt about enforced waits and small rooms. He didn't like being in the prison's visiting area so soon after his experience with the SJCCF. The separation from her had made him appreciate her claustrophobia.

"I passed with flyin' colors," she replied. "They're giving him a 48 hour furlough and no cuffs required."

"Ready to meet the man?"

She nodded, trying to hide her nervousness, but he could tell she was skittish as a newborn fawn.

He drew her close and whispered "It's OK, baby. I'm right here with you, and Otto's a brother."

"I know. It's dumb to be nervous. It's this place, that's all. Too enclosed for my taste."

He hugged her again to let her know he understood. He'd be just as happy to get out of there, too.

They had to leave their coats and jewelry in lockers, and were finally allowed into the visiting room. It reminded her of high school lunchrooms with long tables and attached benches. They walked to one of the far tables, where Otto was sitting alone. He had a patch over the eye the Aryans had gouged out. The other eye had a scar crossing it. He wore a kerchief around his head. LuAnn's name was tatooed on one forearm.

"Who's there?"

"Tig. I brought my old lady to meet you. She's springing you for the funeral. Cat Marshall, this is Big Otto."

Otto motioned for them to sit down. As they settled on the benches, Cat murmured, "I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, sir."

Otto found himself liking the woman's gentle voice with the hint of a Southern drawl to it. He could hear her sincerity. There was nothing false about her. He turned his face to her and stretched out his hand in greeting.

She glanced at the watching guard, who nodded assent before she firmly clasped his hand.

He was surprised by her grip, no cold fish handshake or attempt to outmuscle him. "You can call me Otto." Turning towards Tig he added, "Wow!"

"You got that right, brother," he agreed.

"Before y'all get down to talkin' business I've got an agenda of my own. Is there anything special you want while you're our guest, sir – I mean, Otto?"

He couldn't contain his surprise at the way she phrased the question. 'She referred to me as a guest, when I'm the furthest thing from it!' He turned back to her and replied "No, Ms. Marshall. Thanks for asking. No one can give me the one thing I really want."

She lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Given the fact that you're gonna be our guest, let's skip the formalities. Call me Cat." She squeezed his arm, conveying with the gesture her sincere sympathy and understanding. "If anything comes to mind, we can always stop off for it tomorrow on the way home."

'She didn't say 'on the way back to Charming' but 'on the way home'. That's nice.' He nodded at her and turned his attention back to Tig.

"Is there anything new in the investigation?"

"Nah. We think it might've been Georgie Caruso. He and his boys took off to Taiwan the next morning, his studio's shut down indefinitely. Unser says the Caracara fire was arson, but there's no other information yet."

"There's no doubt in my mind that Caruso killed LuAnn. He planned it and left knowing the club would come after him. As far as the studio, who knows or cares?" Otto lowered his head to his crossed hands. "I want to know who's responsible for killing LuAnn, and I want them to hurt, Tig."

"I understand, brother."

"I'm not happy with Jax," Otto continued. "I asked him to keep LuAnn safe when the club became partners with her. Caruso just kept at her and Jax didn't take it seriously." He lay his head down on his folded hands again.

"You're gonna hear this sooner or later. My lady already knows. Jax is going nomad," Tig stated flatly.

Otto nodded. "It might not be such a bad idea. That's gonna take time, so he'll be there for the funeral." He turned to face Cat, his voice weary and depressed. "Don't worry, Cat. I won't take out after him while you're putting up with me. You don't need that kind of hassle."

Cat's eyes flashed angrily. "Otto, we're_ not '_puttin' up with you', so I don't wanna hear any more of that kind of talk outta ya!"

Tig laid a warning hand on her leg. He knew she meant well, but Big Otto wasn't the type who took chastizement from anyone, especially a woman.

"Don't you be warnin' me off, Tig!" she added sharply, favoring him with 'the look'. " Otto might as well get used to me; he's gonna be spendin' a lot of time with me!" She turned her attention back to Otto and continued, "I don't pull punches, Otto, and call 'em like I see 'em. I'm serious about this. You're a brother, and you're a welcome guest, not a pest. No more of that kind of talk from you, understand?"

Otto felt a small smile touch his lips. 'Feisty little wildcat! Tig's got his hands full with that one!' He smiled at her, a small but genuine smile. "Yes, ma'am!" His grin faded as quickly as it'd come as the reason for their presence hit again. "Maybe I should have come to you, Tig. LuAnn might still be alive."

There was really nothing either of them could say. Tig knew how he'd feel if something like that ever happened to Cat. He was lucky and knew it but didn't want to rub his friend's nose in it.

For all her exasperation with him earlier, Cat felt Otto's pain. She'd been there and wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy.

The guard signaled to Tig that their visiting time was over. He nodded an acknowledgement. "They're giving us the time's up signal, so we gotta get going. Need anything from your house when we come back?"

He shook his head. "They'll issue the clothes I wore here back to me. If someone can get a pair of black jeans, boots, and a shirt from the house, I'd appreciate it. I don't know if I could handle going there."

"You've got it, brother." Tig lay a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Hang in there, man."

"Yeah."

Cat rose and went around the table to take Otto's face in both her hands. "There's nothing Tig or I can say to ease your pain, Otto. We're not even gonna try. You're part of the family; we're here for you. I care, even though we've only just met."

Otto placed his hands on hers and held them there for a moment. "Thanks, Cat. I'll see you tomorrow." As the pair walked away he added softly "You take good care of your woman, Tig. She's one in a million. Lucky bastard."

Cat did a lot of thinking on the ride back to Charming. She knew that the club would call in charter riders and nomads to act as escort to the cemetery. 'Otto should have the spot right in front of the hearse, not riding in a limo behind it. It's obvious he can't pilot a bike, but would he be willing to ride double? Would Clay allow _me_ to take Otto on the back of the Yamaha?'

She knew she could ask Alex once they got home; he wouldn't get made about her inquiries. She put away her jacket and helmet once they were home and pulled a beer out of the refrigerator for him.

"What's wrong, baby? You've been quiet ever since we left Stockton. You didn't even notice my wandering hands!"

"I've been thinkin' about gettin' Otto through the next couple of days. The service and procession to the burial are goin' to be hard on him."

"That's a lot to have on your mind, especially when it's not your problem," he observed.

She sighed. "It _is_ my problem in a way. Otto's gonna be our guest. I wanna make things as comfortable for him as possible, and that means not ignorin' the obvious. You know how my mind works. Once it starts on a problem, it won't let go 'til I find a solution."

He took her hand and led her to the couch to sit with him. "Tell me."

"Is Otto completely blind or does he have some sight? I really couldn't tell for sure."

"His right eye is weak. I believe he can see forms and colors. The best way to describe it is you see better without your glasses."

She winced. That didn't sound promising. "Then he won't be able to ride in front of the hearse. At least, not on his own. Is there a chance that he could ride behind me on _Blackie 2_?"

Alex considered her question with narrowed eyes. 'I don't like the idea of another man sitting behind _my_ wife on her bike,' he thought. 'She's right, though. Otto deserves to be in the escort. He can't 'bitch ride', no man will do it.' He replied, "There's just a couple of problems, babe. Your bike's not a Harley, and you're not a voting club member."

Her eyes flashed with irritation, similar to what she'd felt at Stockton. "I suppose it's some kind of club code that y'all have to have voting privledges to be in the escort. Otto still has those privledges, doesn't he?"

He nearly choked on his beer. 'Damn! Can't get a damn thing past her!' He nodded a reluctant affirmative.

"Is there any reason a member _can't_ 'bitch ride' something other than a Harley in the escort if he's pysically unable to ride?"

He glared at her. "Well, babe, it _is_ a Harley club. I'm not against having Otto ride in the escort. I just don't see how it can happen. It's rare for an escort to have a rider and passenger, especially a female rider with a male passenger."

"Ah, ha!" Cat seized on the loophole. "Rare. It's not entirely out of the question then, is it?" Rare didn't mean can't or won't.

Alex knew he'd been boxed in and raised his hands in submission. "OK, you win! I'll talk to Clay about it. He might be more open to the idea if you were willing to use Otto's bike. He was having it brought out of storage when I left."

Cat pondered that possibility. "I'm not sure I feel comfortable pilotin' someone else's ride. Hell, I've never piloted _Blue_! Otto might not be comfortable with someone else pilotin' his bike for him."

"Why in Hell is this so important to you?" his eyes were glittering dangerously. She knew he was getting territorial like he had at the reunion.

"Settle down, love. I feel bad for Otto. He's in prison, his wife is dead, and his vision won't permit him to take part in the funeral in the way he should and probably wants to. I guess it's the 'fixer' in me, wantin' to make things right."

The dangerous gleam faded from his eyes and he reached his arm out to her, guiding her head to his shoulder. Her arms circled his waist as he stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, baby. Should've known better. It's nice of you to want to make things easy for Otto, but some things can't be fixed."

Clay was relieved when Tig brought Cat's idea to him. 'I should've known she'd offer a solution. She always does,' he thought. He'd been wrestling with the problem of Otto's placement in the escort. 'As far as I'm concerned, if Tig's comfortable with the idea, I don't have a problem with it.' He puffed on his cigar a few moments as he considered the idea. "We'll put it to the club. If it goes by them, the charters and nomads will fall in line."

Clay called the others into the chapel. Jax was still absent but this matter wasn't something that needed a full majority. "Otto can't see to ride solo, and Cat doesn't feel comfortable piloting his bike for him."

The other Sons nodded their appreciation over her respect for another man's ride.

"Traditionally, the escort has always been club members and Harleys," Clay continued. "Cat's bike is a rice burner but she's offered to pilot her bike and carry Otto in the escort instead of consigning him to a limo."

"I'm OK with it," Tig added.

"Tradition is fine to uphold," Opie added. "There's a time to uphold tradition, and a time to do what's right. This is the time to do what's right." They agreed to allow Cat to pilot Otto on her ride.

Tig called to give her the good news, and was surprised that it wasn't met with as much enthusiasm as he'd anticipated. "What's wrong, babe? I thought you'd be happy to hear this."

"Don't get me wrong, love. I appreciate the club's support. It's just that the situation shouldn't have to be necessary," she replied quietly.

Tig sighed. He wasn't exasperated with her, but sometimes she could be a little_ too_ empathetic with people. "I understand, baby. Thanks to you and your damn stubborness, Otto gets his rightful spot in the escort."

"I'm not sorry to be a pain in the ass where this is concerned, love," she replied. "Thanks for takin' it to the club, and tell the guys I won't let 'em down."

"They know that, babe. Guess I was thinking of the last time, when you had to drive. Thought you'd be a little excited at the prospect. Guess there's nothing to be excited about in this case."

"Your heart was in the right place. Thanks for understandin' love. See ya when I see ya."

Cat drove the PT to Stockton the following morning. Alex wasn't able to go as he had to work at the garage. "We've gotta get the work done before this afternoon. Clay's closing the garage early so the guys can visit with Otto." he explained. "You know I planned to go with you."

"It's all right, love. I'll have the two-way on me. I'll check in occasionally."

"I'd better hear from you when you get there, when you leave, and several times in between," he growled. "I trust you, and trust Otto, but I'll feel better when you're back safe."

Neither of them mentioned Zobelle and the threat he posed. It was always present in their minds, and Cat was always watchful when she was out on her own. "I"ll see ya when I see ya, love," she murmured as she kissed him goodbye.

"I meant what I said. You do _not_ want to suffer the consequences of non compliance," he replied, shutting the car door after she dutifully buckled the seat belt under his glare.

"Depends on the consequences, love!" she remarked cheekily, waving as she pulled out of the drive, the stereo blaring her favorite travel tunes. She flashed the blinkers a couple of times in farewell as the PT cruised down their street.

His fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose as he wondered if letting her go alone was such as good idea. 'Clay was adamant about no one taking time off today,' he thought. 'I hope she's not gonna be stubborn about checking in.' He mounted his bike and headed in the opposite direction she had taken.

Cat had originally considered taking the bike, but decided against it. She needed time to talk with Otto one on one and the bike wouldn't allow for that. There might not be an opportunity for them to get on a better comfort level once they were in Charming.

She checked in the rear view to make sure she wasn't being 'escorted' out of town and slid the irritating shoulder harness behind her back. The drive to Stockton went smoothly. She left a message for Alex when she reached the prison so he wouldn't worry. 'He doesn't often ask me to check in with him, no reason to keep him on pins and needles.' Before she went inside the guest entrance, she reattached the safety belt latch and slid the belt behind the headrest for the return trip.

Cat endured the bureaucratic red tape with as much patience as she could muster. Eventually, Otto was brought out and released to her. He had on street clothes and a SAMCRO cut.

"Remember Ms. Marshall, he has to be back in two days, by 8AM," the guard said as he took the release forms from her.

"Yes sir," she replied, resisting the urge to add a Nazi salute at his back. 'The guy is just another peed-on tryin' to do his job.' she reminded herself. The last thing she needed to do was stir up trouble.

"Hi, Otto," she greeted him quietly, taking his hand and placing it under her elbow along her forearm. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," he replied.

They moved towards the car, Cat occasionally murmuring warnings of steps and curbs.

"You've done this kind of thing before," Otto stated.

"Walking? Quite frequently. Sometimes I manage not to fall flat on my face," she replied.

"Funny," he replied with a wan smile. "I meant that you've worked with visually impaired people before."

"One of my college buds was blind. I learned how to provide passive assistance. We're at my car. You're standing in front of the door. It's a PT Cruiser and has the classic handle."

Otto reached out his right hand and felt the handle. She'd positioned them so that he was standing just to the left of the door. His fingers curled around the handle as his thumb pressed the little knob. The door opened and he felt his way into the passenger seat.

"Reach behind you with your right hand; the seat belt is there. Reach down to the left of the seat, and you'll find the latch." She watched as he fastened the seat belt, then closed the door and went around to the driver's side.

"Thank you." Otto said when he heard her door close.

She didn't have to ask what he meant. "You're welcome." She started the car, but he didn't hear the click of her own safety harness nor the reminder bell.

"Don't you wear your seat belt?"

"I have a problem with anything rubbing against my neck; the belt irritates a scar there. I just put it around the headrest and the buckle in the latch so the alarm doesn't annoy me."

"Tig lets you get away with that?"

'If you only knew!' She smiled at the question. "When he drives I tolerate the belt as a passenger. I don't drive much in town. He's always getting after me for not wearing the helmet in town and about my preference for goin' without the seat belt."

"You sound like a bit of a rebel," Otto replied. "And I'm not just referring to your accent. Why do you insist on being contrary?"

"I've always been that way. If someone said white, I'd say dark just to be different. If they said I couldn't do something, I'd do it just to prove 'em wrong."

"Nothing wrong with that. Guess that's what makes you the best foil for Tig. It takes a different kind of woman to handle him."

"So people say," She replied dryly. She pulled off to the side of the road and took the two-way out of her pocket. "No worries, just making a quick call, Otto."

"You two on the way back?" Otto could hear Trager's voice on the other end.

"Just left the parking lot. Everything went fine."

"Good!" His voice sounded relieved..

"Were you worried? We went through most of the red tape yesterday."

"I was concerned in case of any SNAFU," he replied.

"Well, everything went fine, and I behaved myself. It _is _possible for me to deal with bureaucrats and not get riled up, y'know!" Otto could hear the smile in her voice and knew she was teasing the rider.

"I know, babe. Drive safe. Are you wearing–"

She cut him off with an airy, "Don't ask, love, and you won't be disappointed. I'll call ya when we get to the house!" She turned off the phone and pulled back onto the highway.

"That wasn't very nice," Otto said.

She glanced at the former rider before turning her attention back to the road. "Tig worries about the wrong things. I don't take risks with the car or the bike, whether I wear safety gear or not."

"Be happy that he _can_ worry," Otto replied quietly.

"Believe me, it's not something I take for granted," she assured him. "Not to change the subject, Otto, but the club voted to allow me to take you on my bike in the escort. My bike's not a Harley, but they're ok with it."

"Is Tig ok with the idea of another man riding behind you?"

"He's the one who brought it to Clay and the club," she replied. "I thought about offerin' to test your skills and vision on my ride, and act as your guide passenger in the escort, cause I feel like you're not getting to do all that you should for LuAnn."

"It's not like I have much of a choice. I can't see more than three feet in front of my face! I appreciate your offer, but Tig would have a fit and both our hides if we tried!"

"At least you can see a bit, that's better than a lot of folks have given you credit for," Cat replied. "I respect your feelin's, but take a few minutes to think about it. Clay's had your ride taken out of storage and serviced."

"You're willing to put your bike at risk to help me?"

"It's insured. Does that mean you're goin' to consider the idea?"

"I don't know, Cat. For one, you would ride behind me, and Tig might not take that very well."

"Tig will just have to accept it, if you want to try. Just think on it. The worse that can happen is that we scrape some paint off the tank."

"Cat, wait! Dammit woman!" The phone went dead in his ear.

"Everything go ok?" Clay asked.

'Yeah, they're on their way back."

"Then what's wrong?"

He sighed in frustration, pinching his nose with one hand. "I asked if she was wearing her seat belt and she cut me off. She refuses to wear safety gear! Hell, she won't even wear a helmet around town! I think she does that just to annoy me!"

Clay had to fight his urge to laugh. Cat and Tig's ongoing safety gear battle was becoming legendary. She insisted on not wearing safety gear locally, and rarely wore the shoulder belt when she could get away with it. Tig made no secret of his dissatisfaction.

"Relax, Tig. She's a good rider and driver. She doesn't take chances. If a Mayan, Nord, or one of Zobelle's crew were to take out after her car or bike, I doubt a seat belt or helmet would make much of a difference."

"What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?" Tig snarled.

"It means that you save your worry for when it's really needed, pal! She's no kid and handles herself well. She's good with machinery – bikes and cars – and she's got a good mind. Look how she took care of that hospital clerk, and don't forget her quick thinking when Stahl confronted her."

Trager thought over his friend's words. "Clay's had been married a long time, and knows what he's talking about. Gemma can be a handful when she wants to be. But I can't help being concerned for Cat when she puts herself at risk.'

"There's something you oughta know about your lady," Clay added. "I've been putting this off cause it'd just piss you off, but you're entitled to know: she found additional evidence on the MCC thing. She took pictures of the lectern, proving that the shots that were fired came from _behind_ it. Thanks to her, things are looking better for us with the DA."

Tig's eyes widened in surprise. "She did that when we were in jail? Along with taking care of Chibs and Juice? _And_ dealing with the coffeehouse and our bail? Shit!"

Clay nodded. "She may be a woman, but she's no weak sister. I know she's important to you. I feel the same way about Gemma. But I don't worry about things I can't change and have no control over. It's something you need to learn."

Tig nodded in assent. There was a lot he could learn from Clay about marriage. "I hear ya, Clay. I hear ya." The two-way beeped for his attention. He played the message, saved it, then put the phone on loudspeaker so Clay could hear it.

"Sounds like someone got a similar speech," Clay observed. "Let's go check on Otto's bike."

Cat took Otto directly to the house. She wanted to give him a chance to learn the layout and get comfortable with it. She took him around the house, quietly explaining the placement of furniture and which room was which. Then she left him alone while she checked in at the store.

As she crossed the back yard, she pulled out the two-way and got Alex's voice mail. "Hey, love. We're at the house. Otto's getting used to the layout and I'm goin' to the store for a bit. By the way, sorry for givin' you a hard time earlier. I appreciate that you look out for my safety. Just don't want you worryin' unnecessarily."

When she returned to the house, she found Otto sitting in the recliner, a prisoner of the 20 pound cat, Ebony, who was purring contentedly.

"Oh, geeze! I'm sorry about that Otto! Want me to take him from you?"

"No, he's fine. He's a big cat."

"Proud of it, too. He's friendly, just don't pet him too long. He'll strike without warning."

"Thanks. For both the advice and for giving me some time alone. You don't get a lot of private time in prison."

"This isn't jail," Cat replied. "You're our guest. We – Tig and I – want you to be comfortable."

"So when are we expected at the club?"

"Not any particular time. I left things open with them, that we'd be out when you felt ready."

"I've been thinking over your offer, and it's very nice of you to make it. I'm going to pass on it."

Cat exhaled in disapppointment. "I'm sorry to hear that. I think you could pull it off, if that makes any difference."

"It doesn't. I appreciate the vote of support, Cat. But I have to be realistic. Unless my right eye gets stronger, my solo riding days are over."

"The offer's still on the table if you change your mind," she replied. She couldn't fault the man for thinking the whole thing through. She'd felt she had to make the offer. "Before we head to the club, would you like to check out the club's latest business partnership, _Charming Pawse_?

"Lead the way, Lady Cat. I've not had a decent cup of joe in some time."

She led him through the back yard and on to the back entrance of the store, describing where the cat run was located, as well as the various bits of lawn furniture. "Tig smokes out here. He says he likes having a quiet place to think and have a smoke; he won't let me put smokeless ashtrays in the house."

As they entered the back of the coffeehouse, she described the area where the roasting and baking took place, and the office area. Next, they entered the coffeehouse proper, where she introduced Otto to JR and Adrian. She then described the book area, the lounge and the cat room.

"The seating consists of overstuffed chairs and love seats spread about. There are a few end tables as well and a computer area. The idea is to make the customer want to sit back and relax with a brew and a book – or whatever one wants to do here that isn't illegal or immoral."

"I see," Otto mused. "The town is named Charming, and your shop invites people to pause out of their day, adding in the cats for their amusement. I'll bet that's the reason you named the place '_Charming P-a-w-s-e_'."

"You're the first person to mention that, Otto!" she remarked. "I've never told anyone how the store got it's name."

"I'm observant," he replied with a small but genuine smile.

"I've noticed. So, what would you like? Regular coffee? Espresso? A cappuccino?"

He mulled it over for a moment. He'd had his fill of the tepid shit that passed for coffee in stir. He had two days to enjoy the many beverages

the place had to offer, why not start off basic and move up?

"Regular coffee, please, with cream."

She brought a mug of fresh steaming coffee and the creamer pot to him. "I've left room at the top, as most people prefer adding their own cream."

He held out his hand, expecting to receive a couple of small plastic cups, only to feel a cool aluminum pot with beads of moisture along its' outside. He poured some cream into the coffee, stirred the brew and took an appreciative sip. "Wow! Quality stuff!"

"Job one around here, my friend. We don't cut corners. Though this is the only coffeehouse in town, I keep things at a high quality and do different things to keep customers coming back."

Otto nodded thoughtfully. "And you said the club has a stake in this place?"

"Thirty percent off the top. They had no start up costs. I know it's not going to replace the income from Caracara, but this is a legitimate business and the club gets operating money."

"What do _you _get out of it?"

"A lot of satisfaction from being able to stick it to Agent Stahl, and the club watches out for our safety."

"So she came after you, too?"

"She came after all the SAMCRO women, I was the only one who didn't have a rap sheet she could use. She wasn't very happy that I wouldn't play her way. She tried to use Tig's record to split us up, so I showed her the door. Tig and Clay were listening on the phone the whole time."

"LuAnn mentioned that Stahl was bothering the women. She also said you were a real nice pain in the ass in arranging the blood drive for Juice and Chibs!" he grinned.

"I'm sure she did, with emphasis on the word pain!" Cat laughed. "But it got Juice more time in the hospital away from the SJCCF, and certainly didn't hurt Caracara."

"That's what I told her when she complained about it to me. I reminded her that community involvement can go a long way in the long run. She forgets – forgot -- that at times."

Cat leaned forward and placed an understanding hand on Otto's arm. "It's hard to think of her in the past tense, brother. It takes time, trust me."

"Like you'd know!" he replied waspishly.

"That's easy for you to say, friend. But I know _exactly_ how it feels," she replied quietly.

A few tense moments of silence passed between them. 'Damn! She didn't deserve that. I'm just not up to hearing well-meant sympathetic shit right now.' He felt like a heel for snapping at her. 'I don't think she's not just uttering polite words and phrases, I hear real pain in her voice.' He shook his head. "I apologize, Lady Cat. You don't deserve to be my emotional garbage dump. You've been nothing but decent to me, and that's no way to treat you."

"No worries, Otto. I _was_ once where you are now, and it hurts like Hell. You feel like the bottom has dropped out of your life, and you wonder what in the Hell is left to live for." she replied quietly.

His body jerked in sudden understanding. "You really _have_ been where I am now! Do you mind if I ask how did it happen?"

"A random act of violence. Bill's killer has never been found, and is likely never going to pay for his crime. Bill was my life; he saw me then for what I was inside. Not for my looks – which weren't the greatest back then – he was my best friend and my lover. When he died, it felt like Life as I knew it was over, and when our house was burglarized on the day of his funeral, I was led to move here."

"What'd you do, fling a dart at a map?" It was meant as a joke.

"Guess it's a damn good thing the dart didn't land in the ocean. Mighty hard to set up shop and housekeeping on the water."

"No shit?"

"No shit. I spread out a map, closed my eyes and led the dart fly. When it landed, the nose was right in the center of Charming."

Otto pondered the possibilities of such a thing. Serendipity? Whatever it was that led her to Charming obviously knew what they or it was doing. She seemed to be thriving.

"The hardest part isn't the first night, or the second night. It's _all _the days and nights afterward. It's the expectations people put on you a few weeks and months later. You're right about one thing, your situation and mine differ. After the burial, you have to go back to prison. I didn't. Althought there are all kinds of prisons a person can land in. Not all of 'em have bars on the windows."

"But you still had to learn how to cope with the loss, and that's difficult no matter where you are. I appreciate you sharing this with me, it must've been painful to revisit."

She smiled faintly. "It wasn't that bad, Otto. There's something that Bill wrote to me, many years before we married. The card read: '_Someday, sometime, in another world (on NBC __weekdays at 2pm), you'll look back on all this __and laugh. . .waiting will be the hardest part_'."

Otto mulled that over for a moment, then laughed a little. "He was a wise and funny man. Do you still wait?"

"Daily," she replied.

"You love him."

"Yes, and I still miss him. Tig accepts that will always be a part of me. The love I had for Bill never died. I know Bill wanted me to go on with Life. Now, Tig has his own place in my heart and soul. I consider myself pretty lucky in that respect."

A more companionable silence followed while Otto finished his coffee. As he handed his empty cup back to her he said, "You've got a good heart, Cat."

She was touched and a bit embarrassed. She offered to get Otto a refill, but he declined. "Why don't we go on out to the clubhouse, before Tig sends out a search party for us?"

She led him back the way they came, stopping long enough to leave his cup in the sink and return the creamer pot to the fridge. She left Otto with the bike while she retrieved her helmet and a spare from the closet.

Otto leaned against the rice burner, awaiting her return. He was impressed with the coffeehouse but more impressed with Tig's lady. 'She's smart, decent, and caring. Much too decent for someone like Tig. She's his exact opposite. Maybe that's what made him choose her - out of all women - to settle with. Tig can be a cold and ruthless asshole. Deep down, a man needs something good in Life to hold on to. Cat seems to be that anchor for him. She's got a lot of fire and isn't afraid to stand up to him.'

Cat returned from the house with both helmets on her arm. She locked the door and walked up to Otto. "Before we go to the club, would you like to go by the funeral home, to have some private time with LuAnn?"

He nodded. "If you don't mind taking me, I'd like that."

"I wouldn't have offered it I minded, dude," she replied. "Just let me update Tig." She turned on the two-way and got his voice mail. "Hey, love, we're leaving the coffeehouse, but we're not headin' over there yet. Takin' Otto to the funeral home to visit his lady. I'll have the phone on."

She placed the spare helmet in Otto's hands. "It's an older kind that's open face but covers the ears. That's why I don't like it. The buckets the guys wear are good for hearing, but I don't like they way they look. Got a full face for me that's been modified. It's not perfect, but it works."

She donned her own helmet, and mounted her bike. She held it steady so that Otto could straddle the seat. When he placed a hand on her shoulder in order to mount, the top of his hand brushed against her helmet. He didn't make mention of it, except to smile. As he settled in, Cat mentally steeled herself to have another man's hands around her waist.

"I can lean against the trunk and hold the sides," Otto assured her. "If you're like me, having someone's arms around you on the bike can be disconcerting. Besides, I don't want to get on Tig's bad side."

Cat turned her head sideways to glance at Otto. "Was I _that _obvious?"

He held his thumb and forefinger out, pinched together. "Just a bit. Shall we ride?"

She started the bike and they rode from the house. It was the first time in ages that Otto had been on a bike, and he enjoyed the feeling.

Cat and Otto walked through the funeral home entrance, the darkness of the building a definite change from the sunshine outside. A bell had gone off at their entrance, so they knew someone would be with them. She led Otto out of the doorway to one side where they could wait for assistance but not block the door.

The funeral director walked out to meet them, and Cat made the introduction. "He's not been able to see his wife since her death, and we wondered if it'd be possible for him to say a private farewell," she explained.

The funeral director nodded, then caught Cat's glare and her non verbal indication that Otto couldn't see his head bob. "Of course, Ma'am. If you two will come this way?"

Otto took her arm again, and they followed the funeral director to one of the parlors. At the far end lay a brown casket with the lid raised. Floor lamps cast a soft pink glow over the area, and torch lights above added to the illumination.

They walked down the center aisle, but Cat stopped at the end. "Otto, the casket is directly in front of you, the lid is raised. I'm gonna step out and give you some privacy with your wife. Just call out and I'll come back for you when you're ready."

He nodded and moved quietly forward. Cat turned away and stepped into the outer lounge area, closing the door behind her.

The two-way chirped for her attention. "Hey!"

"Hey back. You OK?"

"Sure. It's just a funeral parlor. Otto's with her now; I'm waitin' in the lounge."

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "I was worried that you might be having flashbacks or nerves or something. Want me to come over?"

"That's sweet, love, but I'm OK. We'll be on our way once he's done," she assured him. "I'll call and let you know when we're en route."

"Good. Be safe, babe."

"See ya when I see ya, love."

Otto listened as Cat moved almost soundlessly back to the entrance before he walked to the casket holding his wife's remains. 'The more I'm around her, the more I understand why Tig chose her. I just don't understand why _she_ chose him!'

He stopped when his questing hand felt the smooth, polished wood in front of him. He felt his way along to the opening, sliding his hand forward until he felt LuAnn's face. Her skin was cold to the touch; he'd expected that. He couldn't see her very well, so he had no idea if the cosmetician had been able to cover her injuries. 'Won't matter. She always said she'd prefer a closed casket service anyway,' he reminded himself.

His mind's eye pictured the many times he'd seen her sleeping, as people always claimed the deceased looked asleep. Why people would say that when it wasn't true was beyond his ability to understand. 'Maybe it's the closest we can come to accepting the idea of Death, by comparing it to sleep. Not a very good comparison.'

His hand brushed against LuAnn's cheek in a caress. "Ah, darlin'. Who did this to you?

Was it Georgie? Whoever it was, the club will find whoever did it and make them pay for hurting you." He wasn't aware he'd spoken. His comments had been whispered, but his voice seemed to roar in the empty room.

He kept his hand against LuAnn's cheek for some time, silent tears streaming down his face. He thought he'd cried himself out when he got the news days ago. Apparently that wasn't the case.

He allowed himself the luxury of crying his heart out. There was no one around to witness it, and even if Cat could hear him, he knew she wouldn't tell anyone. The tears finally dried up, leaving him weary. "Good bye, darlin' LuAnn," he whispered, bending down to touch his lips to her cold ones. Then he turned and slowly walked up the center aisle to the door.

* * *

It was just after noon when Cat and Otto arrived at the garage and club. Tig was watching for them, and motioned for her to park next to his bike. She allowed Otto to dismount and then backed her bike into the space Tig indicated.

She removed her helmet and fluffed out her hair. The helmet always plastered her hair to her head, one of the other reasons she didn't like wearing it on short trips. But if wearing it more often made Alex worry less, she'd endure the minor discomfort.

He gave her a quizzical glance as he accepted the spare helmet from Otto. "It only seemed fair to wear mine if my passenger was wearin' one," she explained, trying to appear non chalant.

He winked at her as he handed over the helmet, letting her know he wasn't fooled. She placed the spare helmet in the trunk and then attached hers to the holder built onto the side of her bike.

The rest of the club had crowded around Otto to greet him. Many hadn't seen him since he'd gone to prison. Given the circumstances, their greetings were more subdued than usual.

'So what do y'all have planned for him?" Cat asked. She knew there wasn't going to be a big bash like Bobby's homecoming, but she was sure the guys wanted to do something to celebrate Otto's furlough.

"Not a lot. Just hang out. We're having dinner here tonight. Potluck. Us, Charters, nomads, and the gals from Caracara."

Cat winced. "Lord, I hope this one goes better than the last one."

Alex laughed and put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close to him. "Same here, babe! I don't think anyone's going to fight or announce a murder this time."

The riders ushered Otto into the clubhouse, leaving them alone for a moment. "Guess I'll have to go to the store. The police department still has custody of my cake pan," she turned in Alex's arms to face him. "By the way, I don't think Otto is going to be very comfortable on the sofa. He's a little longer than it is."

"I was thinking that myself," he replied, not aware that he was being set up for some teasing. "But after sleeping on a prison mattress, the sofa would feel like a cloud to him. Course, he could stay overnight at the clubhouse."

"And have Stahl breathing fire down our collective necks? No way! Seems to me that the best solution is to let you two men take the bed, and I'll camp out on the sofa."

Tig glared angrily at that idea, his brows knitted in fury. 'What in Hell is she thinking? The bed is _our_ territory! No way am I going to share our bed with another man!'

Cat's grin immediately gave her away. Tig knew that behind her sunglasses, her eyes were twinkling with merriment at his momentary distress.

"Damn you!" he growled, his hands moving up from her shoulder to grasp the back of her neck. "Sometimes when you pull that shit, I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you!"

She peered over the top of her sunglasses at him, her eyes reflecting her lack of fear and amusement. "If you were gonna kill me, love, you'd have done it a long time ago. So you might as well kiss me. You know you've been wanting to since I got here."

He bent his mouth down to hers, kissing her long and hard in response to her dare. "You certainly enjoy living dangerously, don't you?" he whispered against her ear. Then his lips moved down along her neck, making her weak in the knees. "Now, what are you intending to do about the sleeping arrangements?"

She squirmed under his expert ministrations. His lips, tongue, and mustache were working their magic, and his beard was tickling her. "You don't fight fair!" She shrieked.

"All's fair, and I like to win," he murmured against her neck. "Talk, woman!"

"I intend to pick up one of those self inflating air mattresses and set it up in the library!" she gasped.

"That's more acceptible," he replied, moving his mouth back to hers. She could tell by his satisfied smirk that she'd lost this particular battle of wits. She didn't mind it one bit.

"Hey, you two, we have rooms for that shit!" Clay hollered at them from the door of the clubhouse. "Get your asses in here or I'll start selling tickets!"

"Spoilsport!" Cat muttered.

"The patch doesn't read 'President' for nothing," he replied as he walked her to the clubhouse, oblivious to Clay's glower.

"Newlyweds!" Clay sputtered, glaring at them as they passed.

* * *

Otto decided against a viewing. Everyone agreed that they wanted to remember LuAnn as she'd lived, and not see the shell in the casket. Gemma explained to Otto that she had selected some photos of her friend to display during the service at the funeral home.

Cat felt uncomfortable about being a part of the planning. 'Hell, I wasn't that friendly with LuAnn. This is none of my beeswax! I don't know why Tig asked me to sit in.'

"Sit," Tig ordered when she rose to find something – anything – else to do. "I have a good reason for you sitting in."

"Then maybe you should share it with the rest of us, so the lady won't be so uncomfortable," Otto replied.

"Cat set up a medical fund for the club, to cover what insurance won't. It took a hit when Chibs and Juice got hurt. I thought you might consider memorial donations to it. Cat won't ask. I don't have that problem."

"It's really not a big deal," she murmured, embarassed that her man was asking Otto to help replenish the coffers. 'Trust him to have the balls!' she mused.

"It's a big deal to us," Gemma stated. "We needed something like that, and you made it possible. Otto needs to know what his options are where memorial donations are concerned."

"LuAnn didn't have charities that interested her," Otto replied, catching on to Cat's discomfort. "She always said not to cover her casket in flowers, she'd not be able to enjoy them when she was dead. I think having donations made to the club's medical fund is a good idea. She'd like that."

When contacted, the funeral home indicated there would be no problem in making donation envelopes available for the medical fund. Cat provided the bank location to the funeral director, and then called the bank to prepare them for the deposit to come.

Cat took her leave of the Alex and the clubhouse shortly after the planning session ended. She had several errands to run before the dinner that evening. Otto decided to stay at the clubhouse. "I'll be fine here, Cat," he assured her. "This will give me time to catch up on club business. If I need anything, I'll have Tig give you a call."

"That sounds like a plan. I know the guys will enjoy bein' with you without a female in the way," she replied. "I'll see y'all later."

Alex walked her out to the bike. "How long do you think you'll be?"

"Can't say for sure, love. Got a few things on my to-do list, plus stop in at the coffeehouse to make sure things are OK. I'll definitely be back in time for the dinner."

Her personal cell phone let loose with '_Past the Point of No Return_' in Gerard Butler's voice. "Pardon me." She reached into her pocket and looked at the caller ID. It was Tara. "Hey, what's up doc?"

Alex winced at the pun.

"Are you back in town, Cat?" Tara had heard that line so many times that it hardly bothered her.

"Yeah, I'm at the clubhouse. Why?"

"Are you alone?"

Cat frowned in consternation. Tara didn't usually beat around the bush like this. "No, but I can still listen."

"I don't want the club to know about this yet. Are you _sure _you can talk?"

Cat was getting exasperated. "Would you rather I come out there?"

Tara sighed then continued, "Chibs had a set back today. Margaret Murphy, the hospital administrator, told him he was being transferred to Stockton General because he couldn't pay for continued care. He freaked out and faked symptoms. Dr. Gallagher felt it best to put his status back to critical condition."

"Huh. The cell never rang, and if he'd called the coffeehouse, they would've called me," she replied, unable to understand why Chibs wouldn't have called her before reacting. "Wait a minute, why was _she _talkin' to him about his ability to pay when it's already taken care of? He knew that!" Alex was getting concerned over her end of the conversation, but she waved him off, concentrating on Tara.

"She doesn't like the club and my involvement in it. She went out of her way to upset Chibs to get back at me."

"Do you need me to talk some sense into the bitch?"

"No, it'd do more harm than good. Gemma tried that and Martha filed a complaint on me. I had the accounting department talk to her about the financial set-up for Chibs." There was silence on the doctor's end, then she added, "Chibs probably freaked and didn't call you because I mentioned the same thing to him a couple of days ago. That's how I found out about the account."

"Well, nothin' we can do now. At least he's stayin' put until he's released," Cat replied. "I appreciate you lettin' me know. I'm gonna have to fill in Tig; he's right beside me and chompin' at the bit."

"Sorry, Cat. Please don't let him say anything to the club. I'll fill in Clay tonight."

"It's not your fault. I hold that tight ass bitch responsible. I'll see ya later."

"What was _that_ all about?" Alex inquired.

"There was a FUBAR where Chibs alternative payment was concerned. That idiot hospital administrator assumed he didn't have any and was gonna move him to another hospital. It's taken care of, but it scared the Hell out of Chibs, and he's back on the critical list. What _is_ it about hospitals in this state about not checkin' into alternative payment?"

"Dunno, baby," Alex didn't want to go down _that_ particular road again. Cat was riled up enough. "Should we advise Clay?"

She shook her head. "No, Tara handled it. She'll talk to Clay later."

"OK. As long as Chibs is safe."

"He is, love. Just let me see that bitch cross my path; she'll find out what bad luck is really like!"

Alex hugged her, partly out of comfort, mostly to settle her temper. "Don't go riding out on the warpath like you did that other hospital, baby. Give things time to cool down."

She glared up at him. "If I didn't have so damn much to do today, I'd certainly pay her a visit! If she tries the same thing with Juice, the gloves _will _come off!"

Alex laughed and kissed her goodbye. "I pity that gash!" he said, swatting her on the butt before heading back to the clubhouse. "I'll see you later."

Cat's first stop was the coffeehouse. She'd heard that the newest charter, the former Devil's Tribe, had arrived in town. She wanted to make sure the store had plenty of her new flavor available.

She opted to park the bike in front of the store and was surprised to see a line of strange bikes at the curb. 'Lord, I hope that's not a bunch of Nords or Mayans!' she thought, patting her back where her gun was stored.

She knew her staff would have warned her if a rival gang had entered the place, but Tig had taught her to be prepared. She had the two-way ready in case she needed to call for help. She glanced at the license plates on the bikes and relaxed. Nevada plates. She walked into her shop to find Sons of Anarchy cuts, with the banner at the bottom reading 'Nevada'.

"Howdy, guys! I'm Cat Marshall, the owner. Which one of you is Jury?"

A tall man with silver hair and blue eyes rose to greet her. "You're Tig's old lady, right?"

She nodded. "Welcome to Charming, gentlemen. Sorry it has to be under such sad circumstances."

"Likewise, Miss Cat. You've got a nice place here, and this whiskey flavored coffee really hits the spot!"

She grinned at the ringing endorsement. "Glad y'all like it. Inspired by SOA." 

"How's Big Otto?"

"Unhappy. Will y'all be at the potluck tonight?"

"Yeah. Hope Gemma doesn't mind if we bring take-out."

"The guys won't care, as long as it's edible," she replied. "There's a grocer with a great deli just down the block. All y'all can find some decent stuff there. Tell 'im I sent you, and he'll treat y'all right."

She paid for two pounds each of the Jack Daniels and Southern Comfort blends to take to the potluck and spoke briefly with JR and Adrian. Then she went into the back to check in with Miss Anna, who was working on the pastries for the next day.

"Everything OK, Anna?"

"Never better, Miss Cat. The Sons are keeping us busy; we've made three pots of the Jack Daniels blend since the Nevada guys got in."

"How's the supply?"

"We're good. Plenty of both blends roasted and bagged. I thought we'd get a head start on baking for tomorrow. These riders really have big appetites!"

"Yes, they do," Cat replied with a grin. "Be sure to set aside a few Snicker Bar Muffins for Tig, please."

"Sure thing, Miss Cat."

She rode her bike around the block to the house and put the bag of coffee in the PT's hatch. She then went out to get her shopping done, locating a self-inflating air mattress for Otto and then several pies at a local bakery. The baker stocked several varieties of sugar free pies and she stocked up in case there were others who needed sugar free besides her.

She returned to the house with her purchases, and worked on cleaning and polishing her bike for the following day, which helped her work off her anger at the hospital administrator. 'If I hadn't promised Alex, I'd be workin' my anger off on her!' By the time she was through, the paint and chrome shone and the leather gleamed as it the Yamaha had just come off the showroom floor.

The air mattress didn't take long to set up. She made it more comfortable for Otto by making it up with sheets, a blanket, and a couple of pillows. A radio was added so he could listen to music if he wished.

She was dirty and even sweating by the time she'd finished the bike and bed endeavors, so she decided to shower and change before returning to the clubhouse. Instead of wearing boots with her jeans, she opted for sneaks and a short sleeved shirt under her usual long sleeved one. As she was tying her sneaks, the two-way chimed. "Hey!"

"Hey back. You lost?"

She smiled at the growl coming from the other end of the line. "Just leavin' the house, love. I got busy and lost track. Plus, it's damn difficult puttin' a bandage on one's own paw."

"Hmpf. You riding or driving?"

"I'll have the PT. All the pies won't carry well on the bike," she replied

"Then you'll want to park along the garage with Gemma and Tara's cars," he explained.

"OK. I'll be there in a few."

She could see why Alex advised her where to park, as there were quite a number of bikes lined up along the far wall. She found a spot along the garage between Gemma's Escalade and Tara's Olds, backing in so the hatch was to the wall.

"Hey, baby. Need a little help?" Alex was leaning against the wall, smoking and watching for her.

"Hey back, love. It's just a few bags. I can manage."

He detached himself from the wall, moving forward to give her a welcome back hug and kiss. "Hope you brought more coffee. We're almost out."

"I did. The charters really like the whiskey blend. I hope four pounds is enough."

"It'll get us through tonight."

She rewarded him with 'the look'. "The coffeehouse _will_ be open in the mornin'."

He reached around and grabbed the bags of pies and coffee in one hand while reaching up to close the hatch with the other. Then he put his arm around her. "C'mon, babe." He felt her tense as they neared the clubhouse. He knew what was bothering her. "Relax. No feuds will break out tonight."

"You sure? Opie's probably not forgotten my tearin' into him the last time."

"It's gonna be OK. No one wants to make this any harder for Otto."

"I hope you're right."

Except for an intense glare, Opie didn't come near nor speak to her. 'It's as if we never talked like friends,' she thought, not enjoying the tension between them, and not knowing how to bridge the gap.

"Give it time, babe," Alex murmured, sensing her thoughts.

The potluck dinner, though subdued, definitely went far more smoothly than the last one. None of the Sons were fighting, the children were kept occupied with a video on the television, and no cops came along to announce bad news.

There was a good spread for the potluck. Some brought store bought items, such as Cat's sugar free and sugar loaded pies. Several of the men were capable cooks, including Bobby Elvis. His contribution was a variety of goodies he'd baked himself, including a sugar free confection he made especially for Cat.

"You're a man of many talents, Bobby!" she exclaimed as she rewarded him with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Jack of all trades, master of none," he replied, somewhat dazed but pleased by her spontaneous reaction to his offering.

"Don't sell yourself so short. Financial genuis, singer, baker – you're OK in my book – now."

He winced at her subtle reminder of the injury and subsequent trouble his Fat Boy had caused Tig. Bobby knew Cat had been pretty 'hissed off' at him for awhile. "I'm glad to be back on your good side, darlin'. Those claws of yours can be sharp."

Neither of them noticed a tall, skinny blonde girl dressed in an outfit that clung to every curve that wasn't peeking out of the fabric watching them. She glared intently at Cat, watching her interact with the various club members, most especially with Tig. Two friends lounged next to her, and they whispered to each other at frequent intervals, their eyes never leaving Cat.

"Everything OK here?" Tig asked as he came up to the pair. He'd noticed the conversation between her and Bobby. He wanted to be sure Cat was playing nice.

"It's all good," they replied in unison.

"Your old lady's forgiven me for the Fat Boy thing," Bobby added.

"So long as there's no repeat," Cat warned him.

"I promise!"

"C'mon, woman," Tig replied, taking pity on Bobby and deciding to 'rescue' him. "Time to pay some attention to me!" He slid his arm around her waist and led her away, casting an amused glance at Bobby over his shoulder.

The huddled trio glared daggers at Cat's back, noting the hold Tig had on her. No one was paying attention to the trio, despite their revealing attire. That made them upset.

"You OK?" Alex asked as they walked to a far corner.

"Yeah. Where's Otto?"

"He's in the chapel with Clay. Looks like you and Otto faired OK without me this morning."

She squeezed his waist. "No problem, love. We talked some during the ride and again at the coffeehouse."

Alex grinned at her. "Appears he gave you some insights into safety gear."

"Let's say I'm giving it all the due consideration it merits," she replied. "Did you just come up to rescue Bobby from me, or were you missin' me?"

"A little of both," he grinned. "Some of the guys are getting up a basketball game. Usually pick up games don't require a referee, but the guys insisted so I thought you'd be interested."

"Sure!"

"This I gotta see."

She stopped and gave him the 'look'.

"What?"

"That's what I want to know. What'cha mean 'this you gotta see'?"

"Well, it's been a few years since you played, and I've never seen you play. I'm interested, that's all," he replied, but he looked much too innocent for her taste.

"Yeah, right!" She marched ahead of him and approached the area where an ancient backboard and net were located. Jax, Happy, Prospect, and a couple of nomads were waiting with a group of the charter riders. A basketball lay on the ground between the groups. "Hey, guys. I understand you're lookin' for a ref."

Alex moved along the side lines, watching and waiting, a sly smile on his face. The charter players hooted at the newcomer.

"_This _is your idea of a ref?" shouted one.

"She's old, short, and a woman!" called out another.

Cat rolled her eyes. 'Men!' she thought. She gestured for the ball, which Happy tossed and she easily caught, twirling it around her waist and then in a figure eight around her legs. When she straightened up, she sighted and let fly with a perfect jumper, right through the net.

Happy retrieved the ball and tossed it back to Cat, who caught it, and started spinning it on one finger. The charter riders, though impressed with her show, remained unconvinced. "OK, Kip, guard me. And don't hold back."

Prospect glanced over his shoulder at Tig, who shrugged, still smiling slyly. "You heard the lady, Sack. Just watch where you put your hands."

Cat rolled her eyes again, then walked to the mid court line, passed the ball to Prospect and said, "Check!" He passed it back to her and assumed a guard stance.

Cat started dribbling the ball, standing in one place but watching Prospect's body. The hecklers and several people on the sideline, including Tig, watched with interest.

"What's going on?" Clay asked as he stopped next to Tig, Otto standing next to him. The three actresses had followed Tig and Cat outside, and were leaning against a picnic table, trying to entice the guys. The guys were more interested in the court action and ignored them, making them pout.

"School's in. Cat's teaching. This is gonna be good."

She continued to dribble the ball, watching Prospect's body, not his eyes, to determine which direction he would move. As she expected, his body telegraphed his move, and when he moved left, she shot faked that way, making him move further in that direction.

Cat took advantage of the fake and Prospect's momentary lack of balance to drive to the right and on to the basket for a perfect lay up.

She caught the ball under the basket, turned and glared at the charter hecklers. The ball rested against her hip. "Any more comments from the peanut gallery?"

None of the men rose to her challenge. The trio said something sarcastic and cutting but no one heard them.

"That's what I thought. Now, let's play some basketball, and all hardware stays on the sidelines! Tig, would you do the honors?"

She'd seen a blonde haired woman in tight clothes sidle up next to Tig while she was on the court. The girl was literally oozing all over her man. Tig quickly disengaged himself from the girl and walked onto the court, collecting all the knives and guns. His expression warned the men not to argue with him.

Arms full of hardware, he sauntered back to the sidelines and piled the weaponry on the picnic table. "Make yourselves useful and watch these," he ordered, glaring at the blonde actress who'd followed him. Then he turned and walked back to Clay and Otto, his attention focused on what was happening on the court.

The teams formed a circle for the tip off, the Redwood Originals going without shirts. Cat held the ball in one hand between the two jumpers and tossed it into the air. The game was underway!

Being a half court game, all she had to do was watch for flagrant fouls, travels, double dribbles, and lane violations. She called things as fairly as she saw them.

Half Sack went for a rebound and came down on his feet in obvious pain, his hands cradling the implant.

"Time!" Cat hollered. "Time out! Injury on the court!"

Half Sack limped to the sideline, his face contorted with pain. He was met with hoots and catcalls.

"Anyone making a nutcracker joke gets to run a lap around the entire block, whether he's in boots or not," she growled, glaring at the group of smirking men, including her own.

"Why are you glaring at _me_?" Alex asked when she focused 'the look' on him.

"Because you're eggin' them on! Kip, go put some ice on it, you over extended yourself."

The men all shook with suppressed laughter, as Cat had innocently added fuel to their fun at Sack's expense. She glared at them in disgust. "Bunch of overgrown little boys, the whole lot of ya!"

"What are we gonna do about the game, Cat?" Jax asked, trying but failing to keep a straight face. The Redwood Originals were ahead, 20-15, and game was 21.

She looked at the charter team; it was obvious they weren't willing to forfeit the game. "We can't play with only four guys!" the VP continued, beginning to look worried.

"You can with four guys and me," Cat replied.

She turned to the audience on the sidelines and called a challenge to them. "Hey! Any of you old farts think you can call a foul or lane violation when you see it?"

The 'old farts' in question looked from her to themselves. "Who you callin' an old fart?" Tig snarled.

"Don't see you doin' anything to prove me wrong," she called out in the same challenging tone. She grinned a dare at him.

He removed the knife sheath from his belt and removed his cut. "You think I can't?"

"Guess we'll see, won't we?" Cat replied as she started to remove her long sleeved shirt.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" Tig called out, running up to her and grabbing her hands. "What in Hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm playin' on the skins' side!"

"Like Hell! You play for the shirts," he replied, removing his and tossing it to one of the charters. "You," he pointed to the player who'd caught his shirt, "ref. You," he glared at her but his eyes were twinkling, "play for the charters. _I'll_ play for the Redwood team."

An assortment of cat calls met his announcement from the sidelines, along with boos that he'd interrupted the almost free show they thought they were getting. The actresses smirked, rolling their eyes and making gagging motions.

Cat grinned at Alex and lifted her long sleeved shirt anyway to reveal the other, short sleeved shirt underneath tucked in her jeans. She tossed the long sleeved shirt to the sidelines.

"Bring it on, old man!" she added definantly. "If you think flexing your chest is gonna distract me, you got another think comin'!" She turned away from him and gestured to the opposing team. "Charters! Huddle up!"

The four charters surrounded her and she quickly outlined her strategy. "Ok, y'all know I can play and that I'm Tig's old lady. They've been playin' man to man and will put Tig on me thinkin' he'll be a distraction. We're gonna use that to our advantage. They need his height at center, I played forward/guard. I'll make the inbounds pass. Tig'll be expectin' an overhead pass. Be ready, cause whoever is clear is gonna get a bounce pass."

"You can handle a ball ok, but Tig's pretty competitive," her original heckler replied.

"So am I, darlin'. We're down by five, and they're at game point. That's the kinds of odds I like. Are you in?" She placed her hand out in front of her, palm down.

The charters looked at each other. If this 'old lady' thought they could win, then Hell, yes! They were in. The charters placed their hands on hers. "On the count of three, charters, ok?"

"Hey, is this a game or a prayer circle?" Tig called out. "Like prayer's gonna help, anyway! C'mon, let's go!"

"Keep yer pants on, stud!" she called out, earning a laugh from the sidelines. The team pumped their combined hands up and down three times and cried "Charters!"

As she expected, Tig was put in as center for the Redwood Originals, while Cat assumed her old familiar post as guard and forward. Happy was moved from center to guard which would have put him guarding the inbounds pass, had the Redwood team been playing a zone defense.

Just as she anticipated, Tig waved a finger at her and tapped Happy on the shoulder. "Since we're playing man to man, this is my 'man'," he announced, pumping his thumb behind his shoulder in a gesture that told Happy to take his place.

"OK, you wanna play it that way," she snorted, holding the ball to her side and crouching over it. "Charters!" she yelled, "fan out!"

"Going for the overhead?" her man snickered. "I don't think you can get the ball over me, babe, but you're welcome to try."

"Hmpf!" She ignored the sight of the wonderfully formed, fuzzy expanse of chest in front of her to concentrate on the movements of her team. They were fanning out, but the Redwood team was playing close defense, which made getting clear that much harder.

"You're running out of time, babe," Tig reminded her, somewhat needlessly. He was enjoying himself and caught up in the competition.

She caught movement to her right, saw that one of the charters was open. She moved the ball over her head and jumped. That made Tig jump as well, anticipating blocking the pass. At the last second, she threw a bounce pass under Tig's upraised arm, successfully getting the ball in play.

"Yes!" She cried in triumph, running under his arm onto the court, watching for an opening and moving to try to get open.

One of the charters had a clear shot, jumped and shot the ball. Cat leapt for the rebound, only to run smack into the solid chest of her man, who was guarding a little too close!

"Hey! Watch it!"

"I think that was a charge," Tig replied.

"Bull, your feet weren't planted. That was a block!"

They glared in unison at the ref, but he shrugged his shoulders. "Ball bounced off Redwood out of bounds. No foul. Charters inbound."

"Shit!" Cat and Tig replied in the same breath.

She went back under the basket, knowing Tig wouldn't fall for a feint a second time. She might be able to use the out of bounds area to her advantage. Until the ball was in play, she could move without dribbling, but only had five seconds to get the ball inbounds or turn it over.

One of the Charters made a move as if to make the inbounds pass, but she shook her head. She moved from one side of the out of bounds to the other, but Tig kept pace, despite his heavy boots.

"Damn! Something's gotta give!" she thought to herself. Then she had an idea, and chest pumped the ball, right into Tig's boot. It bounced off and scooted across the court, right into the hands of one of the Charters, who let loose with another jump shot. This time the shot was good, and the lead was cut to three. "Good move, Cat!" the young rider called, giving her the thumbs up.

"It only takes one point to win, watch these guys!"

The Charters were playing a zone defense, so she didn't have to guard Tig. She was able to keep an eye on her area, and fought as hard as the rest of them for the rebound when Jax missed a shot. She pulled it down and dribbled to the center court to move the ball in play. Tig was taking 'man to man' quite seriously, and was doing what he could to block her from getting to the basket.

She had her back to him as she dribbled, protecting the ball from his reach and trying to get around him, sometimes backing directly into him to make progress to the basket. He kept his hand solidly on her butt, the other reaching around to get the ball. He kept his body between her and the ref so he couldn't see the flagrant foul.

She stopped dribbling, pivoting around to see who was open. She tried another shot fake, but he was on to that and didn't follow the move. She glanced to the left and his eyes followed. His position shifted the same way which was enough to allow her to take sight and let off a long shot, which sank through the basket.

The score was tied, as her shot qualified as a three pointer. It was still game point for Redwood, but they'd only had one possession as opposed to the charters two.

"OK, Redwood!" Tig called out, passing the ball to Happy under the basket. "Let's finish 'em off!" He didn't look happy about the way the game was going. He hadn't played in years either, and his lady wasn't making this easy for him.

Happy had the inbounds pass, Cat guarded him, as he was in her zone. Unlike many guards who would wave their arms and jump around, Cat remained crouched with her arms outstretched, ready to jump at the pass. She watched Happy's body for tell tale movements as opposed to his face.

She saw Happy was going for an overhead pass to Tig, who was waiting under the basket to make an easy two for the win. As Happy released the ball, Cat jumped as high as she could, her fingers grazing the ball. It was enough to tip it away from Tig, but the ball landed right into Jax's hands instead of a Charter's.

"Shit!"

Jax passed the ball to Tig, who turned to grin at her before making a hook shot that went straight through the net for the game.

"Redwood wins by one!" The ref called out.

Cat was panting and disappointed by the loss. She eyeballed her man, standing shirtless under the basket, looking smug and satisfied with himself, a slight sheen of perspiration covering his face and chest. He was also breathing a little hard. Knowing she'd made him _work _for the win gave her some satisfaction.

"Who were you calling 'old fart' earlier?" he growled with that smug smile on his face. He accepted a towel from the blonde girl without acknowledgement, making her pout again.

"Yeah, you're not old. Just a fart," she growled. "Damn good game, love. I didn't know you played," she added. If nothing else, she was going to be a good sport, unless the ribbing went on too long.

He laughed at her, threw the towel back to the blonde and accepted his shirt from the referee, sliding it over his head before taking her in his arms. "You're not the only one who doesn't tell everything right up front. Best way to keep you interested."

"I'm _always_ interested, love. Don't think you'll ever bore me," she replied, laying her head on his chest.

"Good try, Cat," and "Thanks, Cat" were delivered by the players from the charter. They were also disappointed by the loss, but they'd made up four points in two possessions. They could be proud of that.

"Good game, ya'll. Thanks for lettin' me in on it."

Back in the clubhouse, the Charters 'treated' the winners to a beer. Having been part of the losing team, Cat anted up for the round as well, though she drank her whiskey flavored coffee.

No one in the group paid any attention to the trio of young women sitting off to one side of them. The trio included the blonde who'd followed Tig around the sidelines during the game. The blonde glowered jealously at the sight of the coffeehouse owner surrounded by the group of eligible men, basking in the attention that belonged to _her_.

The dark-haired actress sitting to the blonde's left nudged her sister, Kalai. "Don't look now, KD's jealous!"

"No kidding!" Kalai laughed.

"I am not!" KD replied in a huff.

"Why are you wasting your time mooning after a Son who has an old lady, when there's all that imported beefcake?" Lanai asked.

"Because Tig said he loves me!"

Kalai shook her head. "Honey, once a Son takes an old lady, he won't chase anything local. Look what happened to Cherry when she came to town and Gemma thought she was after Clay! If you want Tig, you'll have to leave town!"

"First, I'm not afraid of that old skank. She's not half the woman Gemma is! Second, if I wanted another man, he'd already be wrapped around my little finger! I don't want another man. I want Tig!"

"And people in Hell want ice water!" Lanai snapped. 'Every time there's a party, it's the same thing. I hope Tig's there. I want Tig! It's ridiculous!' She gathered her patience to her and added, "Honey, learn something from Ima's experience. She thought Jax wanted her, he was just being nice. She got her heart broken at the wrap party, remember?"

"I'm not Ima. Besides, Jax never told Ima he loved her. Tig said that he loves me. Why would he say it if he didn't mean it?"

"Hello!" Kalai replied mockingly. "He was drunk! So were you. He might've said something else when he dumped you off him and you just wanted to believe he said that!"

"Yeah," Lanai added. "If he were really interested in you, he wouldn't have let some other guy have you at the wrap party, nor would he be with the old broad."

The trio fell silent as Clay Morrow walked over to the group at the bar, wanting to hear the conversation. Maybe they'd learn something they could use.

"I've been talking with the Charters and Nomads all evening about the motorcade. Everyone's OK about you piloting Otto on your own bike, Cat."

The riders raised their bottles in salute as Alex draped a casual arm around her waist. KD and her friends rolled their eyes at Clay's announcement and KD's eyes narrowed in anger at the attention Tig was giving the older woman.

Throughout the remainder of the evening, her eyes were glued on Tig in the hopes that she would be able to get him alone. To her disappointment, he never allowed himself to be alone long enough to let her hit on him, which did nothing for her temper. Her friends eventually gave up on her and sought friendlier faces.

* * *

Gemma and Otto had gone off to the chapel to talk about other matters related to LuAnn's death. The chapel was the quietest place in the clubhouse for them to talk without interruption.

The fact that he had to deal with an 'estate' had finally sunk in. "I told Cat and Tig yesterday that I didn't want to go out to the house. I didn't think I could stand the idea of going there without LuAnn."

"And now you're having second thoughts?" Gemma asked.

He nodded. "I have to be realistic. My parole is in limbo. Stahl's doing everything she can to keep me behind bars for a long time. I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is the house and the insurance on Caracara. There's not enough time for me to pack everything; I don't have the money for storage. The one thing I don't want is for the house to become a hang out for the actresses."

"You know we wouldn't let that happen."

"But you and the club shouldn't have to worry about it, either," Otto replied.

"Have you talked to Rosen about your options?"

"Not yet. I put in a call to his officer earlier, left Cat and Tig's phone number. I hope to talk to him tonight or tomorrow."

"Don't make any decisions out of haste, Otto," Gemma assured him. "I know your time is limited, but there's plenty of time to make the big decisions. Let us help you."

"I'll think on it. I'm going out to the house tonight, just to look around for a bit. Did LuAnn change the locks after I entered prison?"

"Not that I know of. I still have the key she gave me some time ago," she replied.

"Yeah, probably the same one I have. Guess I'll find out. If worse comes to worse, I can always get a locksmith."

"Do you want me to take you there?" Gemma asked.

He shook his head. "No, I'll ask Tig to take me later. I need to talk with him anyway. Man stuff," he added with a small grin. "I want to thank you, Gemma, for being LuAnn's friend, and for handling the arrangements. It's good to have family to depend on."

He reached out his hands to Gemma, who took both his hands in hers. He rose and embraced her as she sat thinking over Otto's plight with the 'estate'. Then Otto moved to the door and out into the clubhouse, looking for Tig or Cat. He was ready to leave. He had thinking to do and couldn't do that in the noisy clubhouse.

Nomads and visiting charter riders were hooking up with the croweaters and Caracara actresses. Some went off to other areas of the clubhouse to get friendly, while others chatted, played pool, or danced.

Cat went into the kitchen to check on the coffee supply for the morning. There was some regular, non-flavored ground coffee, but the whiskey flavored coffee she'd brought was used up. There wasn't enough for a full cup, much less a pot.

"Looks like the coffeehouse will be busy in the morning after all," Alex observed, as he came up behind her and started nuzzling her neck. "Just as you intended."

"Don't complain too much, stud, all y'all get the benefit of the proceeds, y'know!" She placed her hands over his, giving them a quick squeeze before she slipped out of his embrace and started to bag up the unopened pies she'd brought.

"Gonna store those at home?"

"Might as well. There's room in the freezer, and they'll come in handy for the next potluck. I'll leave the opened and cut ones here in case anyone gets the munchies later," she replied, walking with the bags towards the exit. Alex accompanied her to the car. He took advantage of the momentary isolation to grab her and kiss her deeply.

"Too damn many people around here to do what I wanna do to you," he grumbled.

"There's always later, dearheart. Gives you a reason to come home!" she laughed, leaning into his chest.

"I don't need _that _as a reason to come home," he replied. "_You're_ the reason I look forward to coming home."

The rumble of his voice sounded like a large cat's purr to her ear. She patted his ass with one hand as she broke his embrace. "Be sure to put the hatch back down, love. I'm gonna see if Otto's ready to go."

He watched her walk back to the clubhouse, admiring the view. He leaned against the wall to smoke and wait for her. 'I'll wait and follow them back. Gives me a chance to get away from that blonde shadow.'

He'd almost finished his cigarette when he saw Otto walking with Cat to the car. Otto had one hand under Cat's elbow. 'He's not hitting on her, that's how she's helping him get around,' he reminded himself as he felt a stab of jealousy creep up on him. 'Guess it's a good idea I'm following them home.'

He watched as she led him to the passenger side door and then walked around to her own door, allowing Otto to get into the car on his own. He was pleased that she didn't 'baby' Otto.

She looked from Alex to the hated seat belt that was latched to foil the sensor. He stared at her until she sighed in resignation and unlocked the latch, allowing the belt to slide back to the door frame. She then settled into the driver's seat and buckled the belt in place. She glared balefully in response to his triumphant smirk, the scar on her neck was already feeling irritated.

"That's my girl," he nodded approvingly. "Wish you'd obey me more often!" He stuck his head into the open window to kiss her goodbye. "You'll get a better reward for your obedience later!" he whispered against her ear.

"Uh-huh, I'll see you later," she replied, inwardly seething at his blatant male chauvinism. She decided to let discretion be the better part of valor with the presence of a guest in the car.

"Actually, I'll be right behind you. Best behave yourself, Otto." Tig growled.

"Jeeze!" Cat rolled her eyes in mock exasperation at him. She started the engine and glanced in the rear view, where she saw the blonde girl from the basketball game leaning against Alex's bike. "Doesn't look like you'll be following right behind us, love. You've got an adoring fan waiting for you," she observed with a grin. "Enjoy yourself, just don't make_ too _late of a night of it!"

She pulled away before he could reply to her taunt, but she kept one eye on the rear view mirror. There was something about the blonde's behavior and constant presence around Alex that annoyed her. 'I'm not gonna give in to the green eyed monster and disrespect Alex.'

"You're not worried about Tig's 'fan'?" Otto inquired.

"Nah. No reason to be. He's capable of making his own decisions about who he wants to be with, and for what. We have an understanding where that's concerned," she replied. She switched the subject to explain the change in Otto's sleeping arrangements. "I'm putting you up in the library, on a nice air mattress. The bed's all set up. It'll give you more privacy then the living room."

"You didn't have to go to the expense for me!"

"It's not just for you, darlin'," she assured him.  
"We don't have a guest room, didn't figure I'd ever need one. The sofa wasn't goin' to cut it for you and we'd have to eventually have some way to accommodate an overnight guest."

"I appreciate it, Cat. Did you have fun playing basketball against the old man?"

"Yeah. I didn't know he could play so well. Basketball is a second religion back in Indiana; I played on the first girl's team organized at my high school. Did a lot of bench warming, but saw some court time."

"I heard you did pretty well for yourself, especially against some of Tig's more flagrant fouls when he was on defense."

"He does know how to use his hands!" she grinned. "Would've been better if we won, but it was fun."

Tig wasn't amused to see the blond actress leaning against his bike. 'What the fuck does she think she's doing? Nobody leans on my bike! Hell, Cat doesn't and she has the right!' His brows knotted in anger as he strode to his bike.

"Hi, Tiggy! Remember me from the wrap party and Bobby's bash? It looks like you need rescue from that old bag of wrinkles!"

"Do I look like I _want_ rescue?" He growled, not particularly fond of being referred to as 'Tiggy'. He remembered her from both parties. He wasn't interested in a third, more private 'party' with her.

"Gee, Tiggy, don't look so mean!" the girl pouted. "You certainly seemed willing to get friendly until you cold shouldered me at the wrap party! I'm KD Christenson - one of Caracara's best! Frankly, after the way you dissed me, I shouldn't be giving you the time of day, but I decided to grant you a second chance just to show I love you as much as you love me!"

'Her behavior has been a complete turn off. So is her appearance. The only thing she had going for her is her rack, and that's prolly as fake as the rest of her.' probably wasn't all natural.' He winced at the sound of her voice, another thing he didn't like about her. "Don't call me Tiggy and move your ass away from my bike."

KD pouted at him, her full, collagen-inflated lips wet and lucious. "C'mon, Tiggy! The night's still young! So am I! Wouldn't you rather suck on these than those droopy old gorilla tits that just left?" She raised her shirt to display her boobs, which were pointing right at him, the nipples already taunt and inviting.

"Put your shirt down!" he snarled, any interest he might have entertained in her destroyed by the ugly words spewing from her mouth. He was feeling embarassed for her.

KD refused to move, staring at him in shock and anger. He was turning her down again! "I don't believe it! Tiggy turning down sweetbutt for a fat old hag that smells like cat piss!"

Tig grabbed the actress by the arms and roughly pulled her away from the Dyna. "You don't listen well. I told you twice to get away from my bike and not to call me 'Tiggy'. I don't like to repeat myself."

He turned to straddle the bike and reached for his helmet. KD quickly threw her arms around him, rubbing her well-endowed chest on his arm while one hand slid down his leg towards his cock. "I wanna be with you, Tig. Surely you'd prefer some nice, tight pussy to that old, skanky, stretched out twat!" she whined as she rubbed her crotch suggestively against his leg.

Tig grabbed her arms and shoved her away from him, sending her to the ground on her ass. "Don't **ever **talk that way about my woman again! If I hear any more shit from you, I'll make sure you _don't_ enjoy the consequences!" He climbed on the bike and started it, not taking the time to secure his helmet and pulled away from the fuming actress. 'She doesn't want _me_, just the notoriety of being seen with me. A guy doesn't always want a foul mouthed twat with a rack. She's got a lot to learn.'

"This isn't over yet, Tiggy," she muttered angrily as his bike roared out of the lot. "I'll have you. All I have to do is get Gorilla Tits out of the picture!"

* * *

Cat glanced at Otto as they drove towards the house. She sensed that he was restless and not yet ready to settle for the evening. "It's been a pretty busy day for you, Otto. Have you reconsidered going by your house? We can swing by there if you want."

"Not right now, Cat. Thanks."

"When we get home, I'll have to corral Ebony. He's a bit of an escape artist and will be waitin' right by the door to try to get out. Just give me a couple of minutes to get him secure," she explained as she turned into the driveway. She parked in the usual spot and opened the door to the house to snare Ebony. She confined him to the small bathroom while Otto leaned against the porch railing to smoke.

As she returned to the front door, the roar of the Harley in the drive announced Alex's arrival. She held the door open while the men entered the house, then released the large feline from his confinement.

"Want a beer, Otto?" she asked as Ebony ran through the living room, his tail lashing angrily at being denied another escape opportunity.

"Sure, if Tig's havin' one."

"One other thing in Life you can be sure of besides Death and taxes," she grinned. "Two beers, comin' up!" She retrieved the beers and handed them to the men, allowing them to open their own bottles. Then she went outside to retrieve the pies and carried them to the garage, placing them in the freezer.

She returned to the kitchen and set up the coffepot for the following morning. "Otto, I'm gonna be in the office for a bit, checkin' the store website for orders. If you'd feel more comfortable havin' Tig take you to your house, that's OK with me." She glanced at Alex apologetically, but he nodded his understanding at being 'volunteered'. She sat on the arm of his chair, sliding her arm around his neck. "Thanks, love," she whispered.

"You owe me. I'll collect later," he mouthed at her.

She ruffled his hair and continued, "You'll find the other bathroom all set up. There's soap and shampoo in the tub/shower unit, and towels and washcloths are on the sink along with toothpaste and a brush. Wasn't sure of your preference, so I tried to get 'manly' brands."

"Thanks, Cat. All the comforts of home," Otto grinned and raised his bottle at her in salute.

Alex rested his head against her side, his nose buried in her shirt. The smell of her sweat mixed with her regular berries and soap scent. It was a clean smell that did more to arouse him than any costly perfume. 'She still worries about smelling bad, and she shouldn't. Gals like KD don't know what the fuck they're talkin' about. Why they think that making nasty comments about another woman makes them desirable is beyond me.' He pulled her face down to his, extracting a kiss from her.

"I'll let you know if we go out to Otto's house, babe. Don't stay on the computer too long."

"I won't," she replied. There was no need for her to mention the blonde. Alex had come home to _her_.

Tig sighed contentedly and sipped his beer. He heard music coming from the office. She was already busy with the coffeehouse website.

"You've got a good home life, Tig. I never thought you'd ever settle with any one woman."

"Same here, brother. Cat's different from other women. She cares, does the right thing without being asked. Hell, I don't know how to explain it except she completes me. I can close my eyes around her."

"That's the way I felt about LuAnn. For all her outward faults, and she wasn't perfect by any means, she was my world." Otto thought about Cat's parting words to Tig when they left the club. "What about the fan that was waiting for you. Was it one of the actresses?"

Tig frowned at the mention of KD. "Yeah. She has a lot to learn. Nice rack, but a man gets tired of big boobs, bony bodies, a small brain and no heart."

Otto nodded. 'About time you grew up, bud.' He polished off his beer. "Would you mind taking me out to the house? I need to go through it, before I go back. There might not be time tomorrow. The place'll have to be closed down eventually. I won't get parole for some time."

"No worries. Just give me a minute," Tig replied. He walked down the hall to the office and leaned against the door, watching Cat work. Otto grinned as he listened to their conversation, so similar to ones he'd had with LuAnn.

"Hey, baby. Otto and I are gonna run out to his house. Shouldn't be gone very long. I'm takin' the PT."

Otto noticed that Tig didn't ask about using her car, but told her he was taking it. 'Acts like they're married,' he mused. 'Certainly has the what's yours is mine part down pat.'

"Fine by me, love. There's a few things related to the merchandise line I need to work on tonight, anyway. Glad y'all have somethin' to amuse yourselves."

"Damn! Almost forgot. Got your design to the shirt suppliers. Here's the quote on your first and furture orders," he withdrew a piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to her. "They'll have the shirts ready in time for the rally," he added.

"You didn't use too much 'persuasion' on 'em, did you?" she replied, favoring him with 'the look'.

"Nah. Didn't have to," he remarked with a sly grin, moving forward to cup her face in his hands. "Be back shortly, baby." He kissed her hungrily, allowing the sweet nectar of her response to wipe away the sourness of the confrontation with KD.

"See ya when I see ya, love." She got up and followed him into the living room where Otto waited. "Just in case I'm not in the office when y'all get back, just wanted to say goodnight, Otto. Hope you sleep as well as possible."

"Thank you, Cat. Sleep well yourself."

She returned to the office with Misty hurrying after her. Alex grabbed his beer and walked out to the PT with Otto. He didn't normally carry an open bottle in the car. Otto's house wasn't that far, and he didn't want a perfectly good beer to go flat.

Otto took the opportunity to talk about Cat's loss as they drove to the house. "I've got to confess to giving Cat a rough time when we were at the coffeehouse today." He could sense Tig's temper rising and hastily added, "She was being nice, offering empathy that I mistook for being PC. That's when it came out about her being a widow. The thing that bothers me is she doesn't seem to be the type of person who would make a radical change just because of a home burglary."

"I know," Tig replied quietly, calming from his momentary overprotectiveness. "I've thought about that, too. She doesn't like to talk about it."

Otto nodded. "She gave me the basics, but I sense that there's a lot more to the story. Did you know she carries a lot of guilt about it?"

"No. What could she feel guilty about?"

Otto spread his hands. "I think it's from something in their relationship."

"Guess you'd be in a better position to sense things like that," he replied thoughtfully as they pulled up to the house and parked. Tig walked with him to the front door, then returned outside, allowing Otto an opportunity for some privacy. He leaned against the PT, enjoying a smoke and the rest of his beer. His mind drifted back to KD's attempts to seduce him, and his reaction to it.

The actress had made no effort to disguise her interest. Her scatching remarks about Cat made that clear. He wasn't sure which of her comments angered him more, the ones about Cat's hygiene or her appearance.

'I remember when we first met, dismissing her as having more meat on her than I preferred. That was stupid! Look what I'd be missing if I'd stuck by that line of thinking!' He blew smoke over his head, staring into it as if it held answers.

When they'd started their relationship, she'd given him _carte blanche_ to indulge his perverse side. He did just that when the Sons had patched over the Devils Tribe. As time went on, he found himself less interested in what other women had to offer.

He thought back to Bobby's homecoming, his first encounter with KD. She wore leather strips around her boobs and ass, covered with fishnet hose. She wore black leather stiletto boots. She'd followed him around the club throughout the party, hoping for a piece of him. He had drunk a lot of beer, trying to get over his lingering guilt for Donna's death.

He gotten too drunk to ride and wasn't ready to crash in an empty room of the clubhouse so he'd crawled onto the bar to rest. KD had appeared, unbuttoned his shirt and started on his pants. He wasn't into having sex before an audience and had stopped her from undressing him by asking her to find them a room. She'd laughed at the idea, so he'd turned his back to her and passed out. When Alvarez called the prepay, he'd found KD sprawled out on top him, ass to his face and her face nestled in his crotch.

'I never should've said that bit about loving her after I tossed her to the floor,' he mused. 'She obviously took it literally. I don't undestand why she pulled the same shit at the wrap party, trying to have sex in full view of everyone. She got pretty vicious when I turned away from her at the party. She wasn't real pleased with my turning her down again tonight. I have a feeling she's gonna be trouble.'

Otto paused in the front entry, relieved that Tig didn't feel it necessary to keep him company. He knew the layout of the house. LuAnn wasn't much for rearranging things. He knew where every stick of furniture was placed.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his home, storing the memory for the empty years to come. There were lingering traces of LuAnn's perfume thoughout the house. He could sense her in each room, in each piece of furniture and knicknack. It hurt, but is was a very sweet pain.

He slowly moved through each room, his questing fingers taking in the textures of fabrics and woods, glass and metal and china.

He returned to the main room, filled with sofas and chairs, where he and LuAnn had often visited with friends like Clay and Gemma, talking, smoking, and drinking.

There was the kitchen, where they've often sat with friends for dinners but most often had meals to themselves. 'LuAnn had a knack for making a simple dinner quite an affair!' he remembered with a grin.

He stepped into the garage where his bike had shared space with LuAnn's red Corvette. The smell of motor oil and gasoline reminded him of the number of times he'd worked on one machine or the other, LuAnn perched on a shelf or stool to keep him company.

He finally walked into the bedroom. 'How many nights did we spend right here – in that bed – loving each other until the sun rose? We'd talk and dream together. This was our sanctuary. Our own world where SAMCRO and Caracara didn't exist. It was just us. This was where I felt most alive and loved.'

His fingers brushed against the vanity. He knew each piece of jewelry in her box, whether he'd given it to her or not. He knew the story of each ring, bracelet, necklace and earring there. His hand closed around her hairbrush. There were a few hairs caught in the bristles. 'She had such gorgeous long hair. I could brush it for hours and never get tired!' He carefully removed the captured hair from the bristles and wrapped them in one of his bandannas. 'I'll figure out some way to bring them to my cell as a keepsake. For now, they'll safe in this bandanna.'

He opened the closet and her scent wrapped around him from her clothes. Silks, satins, cottons, and other fabrics met his hands. Her scent and her presence seemed strongest there. He could picture the rows of shoes in the closet; boots, sandals, and other footwear of all colors. 'She wore all colors well,' he recalled fondly. 'No matter what she wore, she looked good to me.'

Otto felt like he could stay in that closet forever. He wished it were possible, but his present circumstances didn't allow that. All he could do was mourn his loss and try to find small mementos that he could take back to Stockton. Just little things he could treasure until, sometime in the distant future, he received his parole.

He roamed through the house, picking up a picture here, an item there, and placing them in a small box. It was so little to show for so many years together! He placed the box next to the front entry, then returned to the bedroom to sit at the foot of the bed where he could think awhile.

'Gemma's right. I need to do something with the place. Either put it up for sale or have Rosen find someone to manage it as a rental property. I need to decide what to do with her clothing and possessions, as well as mine. Damn! So much to do and so little time to do it!'

He laid his head in his hands as memories of his life with LuAnn raced through his mind's eye. 'This will never be home to me again. It takes more than four walls and a roof to make a home. The heart of my home is gone forever. There's no sense holding on to a structure that will torment me.'

He rose to his feet and straightened his shoulders. He returned to the front entry, opened the door and called, "Hey, Tig! Could you lend me a hand? I'm finished here."

"You OK, baby?" Clay asked as he entered the silent, semi-darkened dining room. Gemma was sitting at the table, smoking. The bird was in its' cage for the night and quiet. The only illumination was a small table lamp behind her and the overhead kitchen light.

"No," Gemma replied quietly. She exhaled a plume of smoke. "I miss my friend."

Clay sat in the chair next to her, his hand caressing her cheek. He could appreciate how close Gemma and LuAnn had been. 'Closer than Tig and me when you come down to it. I wish now I hadn't gone ballstic on her at the studio earlier. Things have been fucked up between us since the wreck. I was jealous that she ran to talk to LuAnn after blowing me off a few hours beforehand.'

Gemma had to mentally brace herself not to flinch from Clay's caress, even though she craved his touch. It was still difficult for her to accept any kind of contact from him after the attack the night of Bobby's homecoming. 'It's not right to take it out on him. Just about the time I feel like I'm getting past it, something happens to make it all come back again.' She covered his hands with hers and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, baby. Didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's OK. I know this is hard on you. What did you and Otto decide about the house?"

"He's not sure. He wants to talk with Rosen, but said he was going to have Tig take him out to there later tonight. The one thing he _did _say is that he doesn't want the house standing empty, and he doesn't want it to become a hang-out."

"Can't say that I blame him there," Clay replied.

"What can we do to help?"

"Don't we have an unused room at the garage that could be used for storage?"

"We did. I've been letting Opie rebuild that bike there. He doesn't need the storeroom now. Why?"

Gemma took another inhale on her cigarette, then extinguished it. "I'd like to offer it to Otto to store anything he wants until he gets parole. I have a feeling he's going to let the house go."

Clay considered her suggestion carefully. 'Any man wants the security of having someplace to go once released from jail. But that house holds a lot of memories, both good and bad. I know I couldn't handle coming back here without Gemma. Doubt Otto would feel any different."

He nodded at her and replied, "I think that's a good idea. Next time we get a chance, we'll make the offer to him."

Gemma smiled warmly in return. She felt some genuine stirrings inside her for the first time in weeks. She wanted to bridge the gap between them, but didn't know how to try. The moment passed, and her heart sank again. 'Maybe he'll never want me again, I've put him off so many times.'

Clay felt like there was an opportunity to bring them closer than they'd been since the accident, but he questioned his timing. 'She's burying her best friend tomorrow. I can't expect her to want sex when she's hurting like this.' He buried his desire for her deep inside himself. He kissed her cheek and rose to his feet. 'Don't stay up too late, baby. See you in the morning.'

* * *

Otto had been quiet since they'd left the house, and it was getting on Tig's nerves. "Do y'know Cat has never given me shit about the club since we started this thing? At first I told her only I wanted her to know, now she's more open to what's going on."

"You're lucky, man. But I think she might not have busted your balls for other reasons. Not just because of the way your relationship has grown. I'd make book that it has to do with her losing her husband."

"Maybe it's time I found out more about that," Tig replied thoughtfully.

"Don't grill her tonight, wait 'til morning. If you could get her to talk about it, maybe I can get some ideas from her experience. Besides, that game tired her out. You played hard."

"I live hard, play harder. She knows I like to win at everything," Tig laughed as they walked into the house.

"I'm going to take her up on that offer of the tub. Thanks for taking me out there. Have a good night."

"You too," Tig replied, watching as Otto worked his way down the hall to the library. The office was dark. Cat had apparently finished her work. He turned out the lights after securing the doors and headed for the bedroom. The door was closed. He opened it quietly, just in case she was already asleep.

His bedside lamp was turned on. Cat was reclining on the bed waiting for him. She'd put on the gown she'd worn on their wedding night. "Are you the collection man?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Yeah, baby! Come to collect what I've got comin' to me!" he sneered, his hands undoing his belt as he shut the door behind him and stalked across the room.

She patted the bed invitingly. "Are you _sure_ you didn't make yourself stiff from the workout earlier?"

He grinned wickedly as he removed his shirt and threw it across the room, moving to stand in front of her. "Baby, the only place I'm stiff is where it counts!"

"So I notice," she smirked as she embraced him.


End file.
